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THE BOOKMAN 



AN ILLUSTRATED MAGAZINE 
OF LITERATURE AND LIFE 



VOLUME XLVI 
September, 1917 — February, 1918 



I am a Bookman," — James Russell Lowell 



NEW YORK 
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY 

Fourth Avenue and Thirtieth Street 



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Copyright, 1917, 191 8, by Dodd, Mead and Company, Inc. 



y^// Rights Reserved 



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THE 



BOOKMAN 

An Illustrated Magazine 
of Literature and Life 



SEPTEMBER 



# 



A LEGISLATED PEACE Carl H. P. Thurston 

THE HOLY LAND: WHOSE TO HAVE AND TO HOLD 

■^ Ameen Rihani 

THE PSYCHOANALYSTS Havelock Ellis 

THE DANGERS OF DEMOCRACY Stephen Berrien Stanton 

WASHINGTON SQUARE: A FEW PERSONAL 

RECOLLECTIONS James L. Ford 

THE PRINCIPALITY OF CANTU Clair Kenamore 

AMERICAN PAINTING Charles L. Buchanan 

FRAU COSIMA WAGNER Archie Bell 



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INDEX TO VOLUME XL VI 



September, 1917 — February, 1918 



PART I.— INDEX OF TEXT 



Abbott, G. F. 'Turkey, Greece and the Great 

Powers." 289 

"Abington Abbey." Archibald Marshall 490 

About France. Albert Schinz 292 

About Rug Books. H. G. Dwighht 83 

Ackerman, Carl W. "Germany, the Next 

Republic ?" , 289 

Action and the Story. H. W. Boynton 689 

Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth 
Century, The. William Lyon Phelps. 

>-25. 233. 428, 563. 636 

Esthetic America. (Chronicle.) 73 

Afternoon. (Poem.) 47 

"Airman: His Conquests in Peace and War, 

The." Francis A. Collins 290 

"Alabaster Box, An." Mary Wilkins Free- 
man 93 

Allies Confer, The. (Chronicle.) 403 

Amen. (Poem.) Beatrice Witte Ravenel.... 555 

"American Adventures." Julian Street 335 

"American Dramatist, The." Montrose J. 

Moses 348 

"American in the Making, An." M. E. 

Ravage 330 

American Painting. Charles L. Buchanan... 38 
American Painting Versus Modernism. 

Charles L. Buchanan 413 

"America's Case Against Germany." Lind- 
say Rogers 289 

America's War Aims. (Chronicle.) 253 

Ancient Quarrel, An. (Chronicle.) 546 

Anderson, Isabel. (Mrs. Larz Anderson.) 

Madrid to Morocco. (Illustrated.) 191 

And His Bottle. (Chronicle.) 545 

Animals. (Poem.) 426 

"Anne Perdersdotter." H. Wiers-Jenssen. . . 349 

"Answering Voice, The." Sara Teasdale 441 

"Anthology of Magazine Verse for 19 17" 

William Stanley Braithwaite 678 

April Sequence, An. (Poem.) 45 

Archer, William. "God and Mr. Wells." 723 

"Are We Capable of Self-Govemment." 

Frank W. Moxon 268 

Argument for My "The White Morning," 

An. Gertrude Atherton 630 

"Aristodemocracy. From the Great War Back 
to Moses, Christ, and Plato." Sir Charles 
Waldstein 290 



Art and Romance of Manhattan, The. 

(CHironicle.) 548 

As Good-Natured as He Is Lazy. (Chron- 
icle.) • 257 

As He Writes. (Chronicle.) 546 

Atherton, Gertrude. "The Living Present.". 343 

The Women of Germany 630 

Atherton (Mrs.), on the German Women. 

(Chronicle.) 402 

At Mass for the Soul of Sister Helena. 

(Poem.) Lucia Norwood Watson 146 

"Audubon, the Naturalist." Francis Hobart 

Herrick 329 

"Austria-Hungary." Wolf von Schierbrand 726 

Autumn. (Poem.) 190 

Barbusse, Henri. "Le Feu." 90 

Barnard's Lincoln. (Chronicle.) 400 

Baroja, Pio. 'The City of the Discreet.".. 607 
Beaufort, J. M. de. "Behind the German 

Veil." 289 

Beck, James M. "The War and Humanity." 289 

Beck's Judgment (Chronicle.) 257 

"Behind the German Veil." J. M. de Beau- 
fort 289 

"Behind the Thicket." W. E. B. Henderson. 207 

Bell, Archie. "A Trip to Lotus Land." 335 

Frau Cosima Wagner. ((Illustrated.).. 78 

Benevente, Jacinto. "Plays." 607 

Bennett, Helen. "Women and Work.".... 345 

Benson, E. F. "The Tortoise." 491 

Best Plays of the Early Autumn Season, The. 

Clayton Hamilton 281 

Best Sixty-three American Short Stories for 

191 7, The. Edward J. O'Brien 696 

Binns, Henry Bryan. The Blacksrait' 

(Poem.) 522 

The Peacemaker — August, 1914. (Poi ^ 629 

Blacksmith, The. (Poem.) Henry Bryan 

Binns 522 

Blackwood, Algernon. "Day and Night 

Stories." 207 

"Blue Aura, The." Elizabeth York Miller.. 492 

Bois, Jules. Auguste Rodin 523 

Bookman in War-time, The. (Chronicle.) 251 

Bookman Recommends, The.... 360, 500, 615, 729 

Bookman's Acknowledgment, The (Chronicle) 666 

Bookman's Mail Bag, The 99 

Book Mart, The no, 222, 366, 510, 622, 736 



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IV 



Index 



"Book of Self, The." James Oppenheim. . . 439 
"Book of the West Indies, The." A. Hyatt 

Vcrrill 335 

Books, Best Selling. .112, 224, 368, 512, 624, 738 
Books Mentioned and Their Authors. 

112, 224, 368, 512, 624, 738 
BottoHie, Phyllis. "The Second Fiddle.".... 491 
Boynton, H. W. Action and the Story.... 689 

A Stroll Through the Fair of Fiction... 337 

Ideals and Allegiances in Current Fic- 
tion 598 

Mr. Polly Being a Bishop 353 

Peak and Valley 486 

Some Stories of the Month? 93, 205 

'*The Sorry Tale," as a Tale 350 

Brailsford, Henry. "A League of Nations." 287 
Braithwaite, William Stanley. "Anthology of 

Magazine Verse for 1917." 678 

"Brazilians and Their Country, The." Clay- 
ton Cooper 606 

"Brazil To-day and To-morrow." L. E. 

Elliott 607 

Breck, John. From Hungary 463 

"British Exploits in South America." W. H. 

Koebel 606 

"Bromley Neighborhood." Alice Brown 95 

Bronner, Milton. Burke of Limehouse 15 

Brown, Alice. "Bromley Neighborhood.".... 95 
Buchanan, Charles L. American Painting. . . 38 

American Painting Versus Modernism.. 413 

Billow, Prince Bernhard von. "Imperial Ger- 
many." 286 

Burgess, Katherine Stanbery. The Bookshelves 466 

Burke of Limehouse. Milton Bronner 15 

Burleigh, Louise. "The Community Theatre." 347 
Burton, Richard. Some Art Books of the 

Year 477 

Busy Days for Michael Monahan. (Chron- 
icle.) 666 

Butler, Nicholas Murray. "A World in Fer- 
ment." 289 

Buts De Guerre. (Poem.) 553 

Bynner, Witter. "Grenstone Poems." 440 

"Cabin, The." V. Blasco Ibanez 607 

Cable. (Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenzer... 66 
Caffin, Charles H. "How to Study Archi- 
tecture." 479 

Caine, William. "Three's a Crowd." 692 

Calypson. (Poem.) 170 

(Arson's (Mrs.) Book. (Chronicle.) 552 

Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes. 

Wilson Follett 172 

"Change of Air, A." Katharine Fullerton 

Gerould 691 

Change of Mind, A 653 

Chase, Arthur M. Travel in War Time 334 

Chesterton, G. K. "A Short History of Eng- 
land." 270 

Chevrillon, Andr6. "England and the War." 287 

Chloe to Amaryllis. (Poem.) 427 

"Choice Before Us, The." G. Lowes Dickin- 
son 287 

Christine as a Critic. (Chronicle.) 397 

Christine as a Hoax. (Chronicle.) 397 



Christmas Eve. 1917. (Poem.) Glenn Ward 

Dresbach jg. 

Chronicle, A. (Poem.) 2S0 

CHironicle and Comment, 

69, 181, 251. 393, 545, 6ss 

•City of the Discreet, The." Pio Baroja 607 

Civil War and After, The. Luther E. Robin- 
son S92 

Clark, Barrett H. "How to Produce Amateur 

Plays" 347 

Clark, John Spencer. "The Life of John 

F»ske." 327 

Coit, Stanton. "Is Civilisation a Disease?" 275 
Colbron, Grace Isabel. Wolf von Schier- 

brand's "Austria-Hungary." 726 

Collins, Francis A. "The Airman: His Con- 
quests in Peace and War." 390 

Colvin, Sidney. "John Keats." 609 

"Coming Democracy, The." Hermann Fer- 

nau ' 287 

"Community Theatre, The." Louise Burleigh. 347 
Comstock, Harriet T. "The Man Thou 

Gavest." 208 

"Concerning Painting." Kenyon Cox 478 

Concerning "The Masque of Poets." Edward 

J. O'Brien 676 

Connor, Ralph. "The Major." 604 

Conrad in Poland. (Chronicle.) 659 

Conrad, Joseph. My "Lord Jim." 539 

Conrad's Birthday. (Chronicle.) 552 

"Conscript 2989." (Chronicle. )TT7rr. ...... . ZSo~ 

Contemporary Poetry. Jessie B. Rittenhouse. 

438, 575, 678 
Cooley, William Forbes. A Democratic Peace. 225 

Patriotism: The Two Voices 136 

Coolidge, Archibald Cary. "The Origins of 

the Triple Alliance." 272 

Cooper, Clayton. "The Brazilians and Their 

Country." 606 

Corwin, Edward S. "The President's Control 

of Foreign Relations." 269 

Couperus, Louis. "The Twilight of the 

Souls." 489 

Cox, Kenyon. "Concerning Painting." 478 

Cram, Mildred. "Old Seaport Towns of the 

South." 335 

Cram, Ralph Adams. "The Substance of 

Gothic." 477 

"Creators of Decorative Styles." Walter A. 

^y^^' •••• 479 

Daly, Joseph Francis. "The Life of Augustin 

Daly." 328 

Dangers of Democracy, The. Stephen Ber- 
rien Stanton 29 

"Danish West Indies, The." Waldemar 

Westergaard 211 

"David Harum" Exhibit, A. (Chronicle.) 665 

"Day and Night Stories." Algernon Black- 
wood 207 

Dean, Frederic. Some Conductors and Their 

Batons. (Illustrated.) 585 

The Opera— By, For and With Ameri- 
cans. (Illustrated.) 260 

When Rosita Renard Plays. (Illus- 
trated.) 462 



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Dccadcntlet, The. (Poem.) Beatrice Wittc 

Ravenel 285 

Delaficld, E. M. "Zella Sees Herself." 490 

Dc la Mare, Walter. "Peacock Pie I" 89 

Deland. (Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenzer.. 169 

Delightful "Loiterer," A. (Chronicle.) 548 

Democratic Aristocracy, A. Charles Fergu- 
son 147 

Democractic Peace, A. William Forbes Coo- 
ley 225 

De Mussett (Alfred) in the Theatre. Qayton 

Hamilton 668 

"Diary of a Nation, The." Edward S. Martin. 289 
Dickinson, G. Lowes. "The Choice Before 

Us." 287 

Dickinson, Thomas H. "The Insurgent 

Theatre." 347 

"Diplomatic Days." Mrs. Nelson O'Shaugh- • 

nessy 272 

Disappointing God, A. (Chronicle.) 185 

Disputed Passage in Garland's Book, A. 

(Chronicle.) 549 

Dobson (Austin) Once More. Brander Mat- 
thews 528 

Dominian, Leon. "The Frontiers of Lan- 
guage and Nationality in Europe." 293 

Draft Army of Books, The. Montrose J. 

Moses 625 

"Dramatic Works." Vol VII. C5erhardt 

Hauptmann 349 

Dreams. (Poem.) Fyodor Tyutchev ^^ 

Dreiser en Passant. ((Thronicle.) 655 

Dreiser. (Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenzer. 28 
Dresbach, Glenn Ward. Christmas Eve, 191 7. 

(Poem.) : 391 

Song for the New Crusade. (Poem.).. 142 

The Sower Who Reaped the Sea. 

(Poem.) 67 

Dresser, Horatio W. "The Victorious Faith." 290 
Durant, Will. "Philosophy and the Social 

Problem." 277 

Dutch Memories. (Chronicle.) 548 

Dwight, H. G. About Rug Books 83 

Dyer, Walter A. "Creators of Decorative 

Styles." 479 

"Earliest Man." Frederick William Hugh 

Migeod 274 

East Side Moving Picture Theatre — Sunday. 

(Poem.) 572 

Eaton, Walter Prichard. "Green Trails and 

Upland Pastures." 336 

Echoes 308, 464, 707 

"Elegy in Autumn." Clinton Scollard 682 

Elliott, L. E. "Brazil To-day and To-mor- 
row." 607 

Ellis, Havelock. The Psychoanalysts 49 

Ellis, S. M. G. P. R. James in America.... 713 
Ellwood, Charles A. "An Introduction to 

Social Psychology." 276 

Embers Speak, The. (Poem.) 171 

Empey, Arthur Guy. (Chronicle.) 660 

"Empty House, The." 96 

"England and the War." Andr6 Chevrillon. . 287 
English Poetry in the Twentieth Century, The 
Advance of. William Lyon Phelps. 

125, 233, 428, 563, 636 



"Enlightenment of Paulina, The." Ellen 

Wilkins Tompkins 691 

"Europe Unbound." Lisle March Phillips.. 287 
Evensong. (Poem.) Norreys Jephson 0*Conor I24 
Ex-Czarina, The. Frances Evelyn Warwick. 561 
Exploring Russia. Abraham Yarmolinsky . . . . 481 

Factory -Girl. (Poem.) 572 

"Faith, War, 'and Policy." Gilbert Murray,. 289 
"Family of Noblemen. A." Mikhail Y. Salty- 
kov 485 

Fatherland. (Poem.) 171 

Fay, Charles Edey. Autumn. (Poem.) 190 

The People Perish. (Poem.) 472 

Ferguson, Charles. A Democratic Aris- 
tocracy 147 

The Flag and the Fight 249 

The Method of Prophecy 647 

The Revolution Absolute 647 

The University Militant 369 

Fernau, Hermann. "The Coming Democ- 
racy." 287 

"Feu, Le." Henri Barbusse 90 

Field, Louise Maunsell. Women and National 

Defence 557 

Figgis, John Neville. "The Will to Free- 
dom." • 290 

"Fight for the Republic of China, The." B. 

L. Putnam Weale 267 

Fisher, Mary. "The Treloars." 209 

Flag and the Fight, The. Charles Ferguson. 249 
Fletcher, Alfred C. B. "From Job to Job 

Around the World." 334 

Flock at Evening. The. (Poem.) 675 

Follett, Wilson. Casuals, Romance, and Little 

Brown Boxes 172 

Ford, James L. Washington Square. (Illus- 
trated.) 18 

"For France." Prominent Americans 292 

For the Young and Less Young. John Wal- 

cott 493 

"Fortunes of Richard Mahoney, The." Henry 

Handel Richardson 580 

"F. P. A." Scores Again. (Chronicle.) .... 547 
"France: Her People and Her Spirit." Lau- 

Fence Jerrold 292 

Francis, C. M. Some Recent Books of War 

Adventure 450 

Franck, Harry A. "Vagabonding Down the 

Andes." 334 

Freeman, Mary Wilkins. "An Alabaster 

Box." • 93 

French Amazons. (Chronicle.) 1 89 

Friendly Japan, A. (Chronicle.) 252 

Friend of Lafcadio Hearn, A. (Chronicle.) . . 255 
"From Job to Job Around the World." Al- 
fred C. B. Fletcher 334 

From Mars. (Chronicle.)... 253 

From Primitive Man to Modern Civilisation. 

Archibald Henderson 273 

From the Letters of Mark Twain. (Chron- 
icle.) 546 

"Frontiers of Language and Nationality in 

Europe, The." Leon Dominian 293 

Fryer, Eugenie M. "The Hilltowns of 

France." 292 

Fuller, Henry. "Lines Long and Short.".... 4ao 



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VI 



Index 



Garland, Hamlin. "A Son of the Middle 

Border." 327 

Gamctt*s Judgment. (Chronicle.) 184 

George (Lloyd) * Germany. (Chronicle.) . . . 664 
Gerard, James W. "My Four Years in Ger- 
many." 286 

Gerard (Mr.) in Germany. (Chronicle.).... 71 

German Disarmament, A. (Chronicle.) 183 

German Military Disaster Necessary, A. • 

(Chronicle.) 181 

"Germany, the Next Republic?" Carl W. 

Ackerman 289 

Germany as a Frankenstein. Florence Finch 

Kelly 177 

Germany's Terms. (Chronicle.) 183 

Gerould, Katharine Fullerton. *'A Change of 

Air." 691 

Gibbons, Herbert Adams. "The Reconstruc- 
tion of Poland and the Near East." 290 

Gibson (Hugh) Speaks. (Chronicle.) 402 

Glaenzer, Richard Butler. Snap-Shots of 

American Authors. (Poem.) 579 

Snap-Shots of American Novelists. 

(Poem.) 28, 66 

Snap-Shots of English Authors. (Poem.) 164 

Snap-Shots of Foreign Authors. 

(Poem.) 695 

"God and Mr. Wells." William Archer 723 

Godfrey, Thomas. "The Prince of Parthia." 346 
Goldberg, Isaac. New York's Yiddish 

Writers 684 

Gorman, Herbert S. Michael Monahan's "New 

Adventures." 724 

The Irish Home-Rule Convention 331 

''Government of England, The." David D. 

Wallace 270 

Graham, Stephen. "Priest of the Ideal." 600 

"Russia in 1916." 482 

"The Way of Martha and the Way of 

Mary." 482 

Grayson, David. "Great Possessions." 336 

"Great Possessions." David Grayson 336 

Great Story, A. (Chronicle.) 665 

"Green Mirror, The." Hugh Walpole 598 

"Greenstone Poems." Witter Bynner 440 

"Green Trails and Upland Pastures." Walter 

Prichard Eaton 336 

"Grim Thirteen, The." (Chronicle.) 186 

Group of American Biographies, A. Florence 

Finch Kelly 3-25 

Guest-Room Shelf, A. (Chronicle.) 657 

Hamilton, Clayton. Alfred de Musset in the 

Theatre 668 

Brander Matthews's "These Many 

Years." 357 

Le Theatre Du Vieux Colombier 534 

Life and the Theatre 161 

Sidney Colvin's "John Keats." 609 

— — The Best Plays of the Early Autumn 

Season 281 

The Editor. (Chronicle.) 256 

"The Problems of the Playwright.".... 355 

Two Plays for Grown-Ups 473 

Hammer, S. C. "William the Second.".... 290 
"Handbook on Story-Writing, A." Blanche 

Colton Williams 612 



Harben, Will N. "The Triumph." 207 

Hartley, C. Gascoigne. "Motherhood." 34s 

Hauptmann, Gerhardt. "Dramatic Works." 

Vol. VII 349 

"H. C. L." Archibald Henderson 468 

Hearn on How to Read. (Chronicle.) 255 

Hearst (Mr.). Conquers New Worlds. 

(Chronicle.) 186 

"Helen of Four Gates." Ex-Mill-Girl 94 

Henderson, Archibald. A Laughing Philoso- 
pher 583 

From Primitive Man to Modern Civilisa- 
tion 273 

"H. C. L." 468 

Henderson, Daniel M. The New York Public 

Library. (Poem.) * . . 259 

Henderson, W. E. B. "Behind the Thicket." 207 
Hergesheimer, Joseph. "The Three Black 

Pennys." 487 

Herrick, Francis Hobart. "Audubon the 

Naturalist." 329 

Herron, George D. "The Menace of Peace." 289 
He Sings Because His Wife Has Gone Out of 

the House. (Poem.) 48 

He Tells of Hoover. (Chronicle.) 545 

Hill, David Jayne. "The Rebuilding of 

Europe." 286 

"Hilltowns of France, The." Eugenie M. 

Fryer 292 

"History of the Civil War." James Ford 

Rhodes 593 

"History of the United States Since the Civil 

War." Ellis Paxson Oberholtzer 596 

Holy Land, The. Ameen Ril\ani 7 

"Honest Abe." Alonzo Rothschild 594 

"How to Produce Amateur Plays." Barrett 

H. Clark 347 

"How to Study Architecture." Charles H. 

Caffin 479 

Hughes, Rupert. "We Can't Have Every- 
thing." 210 

Humphrey, Seth K. "Mankind: Racial Val- 
ues and the Racial Prospect." 275 

Ibanez, V. Blasco. "The Cabin." 607 

I Come and Go. (Poem.) 573 

Ideals and Allegiances in Current Fiction. H. 

W. Boynton ; 598 

"Imperial Germany." Prince Bernhard von 

Bulow 286 

"Inner Door, The." Alan Sullivan 97 

Inness, George, Jr. "Life, Art and Letters of 

George Inness." 329 

"Inquiry into the Nature of Peace, An." 

Thorstein Veblen 287 

"Insurgent Theatre, The." Thomas H. Dick- 
inson 347 

Interned in Vienna. ((Hironicle.) 659 

Interpreter Abroad, An. (Chronicle.) 258 

"Introduction to Social Psychology, An." 

Charles A. Ellwood 276 

Iowa's Bit.. (Chronicle.) 39^ 

Irish Home-Rule Convention, The. Herbert 

S. Gorman 33 » 

Isaacs, Abram S. War and Religion 381 

"la Civilisation a Disease?" Stanton Coit... 275 



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Vll 



Is the Pen Swifter Than the Sword? Carl H. 

P. Thurston 286 

"Ivory Tower, The." Henry James 690 

James (G. P. R.) in America. S. M. 

Ellis 713 

James, Henry. "The Ivory Tower." 690 

"The Sense of the Past." : 690 

Japanese Commission, The. (Chronicle.) .... 252 

"Jap Herron." 208 

Jarintzov, Mme. N. "Russian Poets and 

Poems, 'Classics' and 'Moderns.* " 485 

Jerrold, Laurence. "France: Her People and 

Her Spirit." 292 

Jerusalem Retaken. (Poem.) Norreys Jeph- 

son O'Conor." 652 

Jesse, F. Tennyson. "Secret Bread." 486 

"John Keats." Sidney Colvin 609 

Johnson, Douglas Wilson. "The Peril of 

Prussianism." 289 

Johnston, Alma Calder. Personal Memories 

of Walt Whitman. (Illustrated.) 404 

Jones, Thomas S., Jr. "The Voice in the 

Silence." 443 

"Joseph H. Choate." Theron G. Strong 328 

"Joyful Years, The." F. T. Wawn 96 

Kelly, Florence Finch. A Group of American 

Biographies 325 

A Message to Mothers 61 

Germany as a Frankenstein 177 

Kenamore, Clair. The Principality of Cantu. 

(Illustrated.) 23 

Kenton, Edna. "Maurice Guest" and "Rich- 
ard Mahoney." 580 

Some Truths and More Surmises About 

Women 343 

Kerensky, The Man. (Chronicle.) 75 

Kester (Paul). Nbvelist. (Chronicle.). .. .75-77 
Kingship in the Balance. Frances Evelyn 

Warwick 246 

Kipling Poems Done in Latin. (Chronicle.).. 553 
Koebel, W. H. "British Exploits in South 

America." 606 

"Ladies Must Live." Alice Duer Miller 694 

Last Suckling, The. (Poem.) 48 

Laughing Philosopher, A. Archibald Hender- 
son 583 

Lay, Wilfrid. "The Sorry Tale," to a Psy- 
choanalyst 351 

Leading New Books of 19 17. The. (Chron- 
icle.) ...553 

"League of Nations, A." Henry Noel Brails- 
ford 287 

Legislated Peace, A. Carl H. P. Thurston... i 
Levine, Isaak Don. "The Russian Revolu- 
tion." 483 

Liebknecht, Dr. Karl. "Militarism." 290 

Life and the Theatre. Clayton Hamilton... 161 
"Life, Art and Letters of George Inness." 

George Inness, Jr 329 

"Life of Abraham Lincoln, The." Ida M. 

Tarbell 3^6 

"Life of Augustin Daly, The." Joseph Fran- 
cis Daly 328 

"Life of John Fiske, The." John Spencer 

Clark 327 

"Limchouse Nights." (Chronicle.) 188 



"Lines Long and Short." Henry Fuller 439 

Literary Competition, Unfair. (Chronicle.).. 73 

Literature as Always. (Chronicle.) 251 

Little Theatre an Open Door, The? Algernon 

Tassin 346 

"Living Present, The." Gertrude Atherton.. 343 
"Long Lane's Turning, The." Hallie Erminie 

Rives 98 

"Love Songs." Sara Teasdale 441 

Lowrie, Rebecca. Graven Images 707 

Lutz, Grace L. H. "The Witness." 601 

"Lyrics from a Library." Clinton Scollard . . 683 

Mc(^be, Joseph. A Romanoff Princess 154 

— — **The Romance of the Romanoffs." 484 

McCormick, Anne. Pompeii. (Poem.) 604 

McCutcheon (George Barr). Nature-Fakir. 

(Chronicle.) 188 

McCutcheon (Mr.) Solves the Riddle. 

(Chronicle.) 188 

McFee (William) Enlists for Duration of the 

War. (Chronicle.) 55^ 

McKenna, Stephen. "Sonia: Between Two 

Worlds." 205 

Madrid to Morocco. (Illustrated.) Isabel 

Anderson 191 

Magi. (Poem.) Charles L. O'Donnell 461 

Magnus, Leonard A. "Pros and Cons of the 

Great War." 290 

"Major, The." Ralph Connor 604 

Making of a Cartoonist, The. (Chronicle.).. 663 
"Mankind: Racial Values and the Racial Pros- 
pect." Seth K. Humphrey 275 

"Man Thou Gavest, The." Harriet T. Com- 

stock 308 

Marcosson, Isaac F. "The Rebirth of Rus- 
sia." 483 

Marks, Jeannette. "The Three Welsh Plays." 349 
"Mark Twain" on the Hereafter. (Chron- 
icle.) 72 

"Mark Twain's Letters." Arranged by Albert 

Bigelow Paine 583 

"Marne Campaign, The." Major F. E. Whit- 
ton 289 

Marshall, Archibald. "Abington Abbey.".... 490 
Martin, Edward S. "The Diary of a Nation." 289 
Masque of Poets, The. (Poems.) Edward 

J. O'Brien 45i 170, 278, 424. 572, 673 

"Masterpieces of Modern Spanish Drama.".. 607 
Mastery of Surprise, The. Blanche Colton 

Williams 165 

Matthews, Brander. Austin Dobson Once 

More 528 

Clayton Hamilton's "Problems of the 

Playwright." 355 

"These Many Years." 357 

Maurice (Arthur B.). His New Book. 

(Chronicle.) 545 

"Maurice Guest." Henry Handel Richardson. 580 
"Maurice Guest" and "Richard Mahoney." 

Edna Kenton 580 

"Menace of Peace, The." George D. Her- 
ron 289 

Message to Mothers, A. Florence Finch 

Kelly 61 

Method of Prophecy, The. Charles Fergu- 
son 647 



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Vlll 



Index 



Migeod, Frederick William Hugh. "Earliest 

Man." 274 

"Militarism." Dr. Karl Liebknecht ago 

Millay, Edna St Vincent. "Renascence and 

other Poems." 68a 

Miller, Alice Duer. "Ladies Must Live.".... 694 
Maier, Elizabeth York. "The Blue Aura,".. 49a 

'Missing.' Mrs. Humphry Ward 599 

"Miss Mniion's Maid." BerU Ruck 693 

Monahan, Michael. "New Adventures.".... 734 
Moore, John Bassett "Principles of Ameri- 
can Diplomacy." 269 

Moral Epoch, A. (Chronicle.) 70 

Morris. (Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenser.. 579 
Moses, Montrose J. "The American Drama- 
tist." 348 

The Draft Army of Books 62$ 

"Motherhood." C Gascoigne Hartley 345 

Mountsier, Robert. Spiritism in England 5x3 

Moxon, Frank W. "Are We Capable of Self- 

Government" a68 

"Mr. George Jean Nathan Presents." George 

Jean Nathan 348 

Murphy, (Carles R. Roof -Builders 709 

Murray, Gilbert. "Faith, War, and Policy.". 289 
"My Four Years in Germany." James W. 

(Serard a86 

My Library. (Poem.) Clinton Scollard 540 

My "Lord Jim." Joseph (Conrad 539 

Name, The. (Poem.) 424 

Nathan, George Jean. "Mr. Gtorgt Jean Na- 
than Presents." 348 

"Nationalism." Sir Rabindranath Tagore... 290 
NekraJBSov, Nicholas. "Who Can Be Happy 

and Free in Russia?" 48s 

"New Adventures." Michael Monahan 724 

New Carmtn, A. (Chronicle.) 185 

New Era of Vitalism, A. (Chronicle.) 39s 

New York Public Library* The. (Poem.) 

Daniel M. Henderson as9 

New York's Yiddish Writers. Isaac Gold- 

berg 684 

Next Logical Step, The. (Chronicle.) 69 

"Nietzsche the Thinker." WUliam M. Salter. 490 

Nightfall in the Tropics. (Poem.) 39a 

No CUunouflage for Booth Tarkington. 

(Chronicle.) 258 

Novikoff, Olga. "Russian Memoirs" 483 

Oberholtzer, Ellis Paxson. "History of the 

United SUtes Since the Civil War.".... 596 
O'Brien, Edward J. Blanche Colton Wil- 
liams's "A Handbook on Stoty-Writing." 61 a 
—^Concerning "The Masque of Poets.".. 676 

The Best Sixty-three American Short 

Stories of 1917 696 

The Masque of Poets. (Poems.) 

45, 170, 278. 4*4, S7a. 673 
O'Conor, Norreys Jephson. Evensong. 

(Poem.) xa4 

Jerusalem Retaken. (Poem.) 65a 

O'Donnell, (diaries L. Magi. (Poem.) 461 

Of Critical Methods. (Chronicle.) 184 

Of the Temperament of Degas. (Chronicle.) . 398 

Old Inn by the Sea, An. (Poem.) $73 

Old Order Changeth, The. (C^hronide.) . . . . 394 



"Old Seaport Towns of the South." Mildred 

Cram 335 

One of the "Thirteen." (Chronicle.) 187 

On Musical Litterateurs. (Chronicle.) 396 

On Politics and History. Luther E. Robin- 
son 367 

"On the Nature of Peace." (Chronicle.) \as4 

On Totem Poles. ((Hironicle.) 656 

Opera— By, For and With Americans, The. 

(Illustrated.) Frederic Dean 260 

Oppenheim, James. "The Book of Self.".... 439 
"Origin and Evolution of Life, The." Henry 

Fairfield Osborne 274 

"Origins of the Triple Alliance, The." Archi- 
bald Cary Coolidge 27:* 

Osborne, Henty Fairfield. "The Origin and 

Evolution of Life." 274 

O'Shaughnessy, Mrs. Nelson. "Diplomatic 

Days." 272 

Ostrovsky, Alexander. "Plays." 484 

O'Sullivan, Vincent "Sentiment" 693 

Other Books Discussed 211 

"Ottija Board" Book, Another. (Chronicle.) 71 
Our Chance to Make a World. (Chronicle.) 182 
Our O>ntemporary Deplores the Lot of 

Fiction, ((^ronicle.) 665 

Our To-morrow, ((^ronicle.) 251 

Overseas. (Poem.) 673 

Owen, Caroline Dale. (Mrs. Charles Snede- 

ker.) "Seth Way." 602 

Passing of Privileges, The. (Chronicle.).... 394 
Patriotism and Brotherhood. (Chronicle.).. 182 
Patriotism: The Two Voices. William Forbes 

C^ley 136 

Peacemaker — ^August, 19x4, The. (Poem.) 

Henry Bryan Binns 629 

"Peacock Pie." Walter de la Mare 89 

Peak and Valley. H. W. Boynton 486 

Peary, Rear Admiral Robert E. "Secrets of 

Arctic Travel." 33# 

Peck, Annie M. "South American Tour, 

The." 605 

People Perish, The. (Poem.) Charles Edey 

Fay 47a 

"Peril of Prussianism, The." Douglas Wilson 

Johnson 289 

Personal Memories of Walt Whitman. (Illus- 
trated.) Alma C^der Johnston 404 

Personal Side, The. ((Hironicle.) 251 

Phelps, William Lyon. Dorothy Scarborough's 
"The Supernatural in Modern English 

Fiction." 611 

The Advance of English Poetry in the 

Twentieth Centuty. ...xas, 233, 428, 563, 636 

William Archer's "God and Mr. 

Wells." 723 

Phillips, Lisle March. "Europe Unbound.".. 287 
'Thilosophy and the Social Problem." Will 

Durant 277 

Phra's Adventure. (Chronicle.) 666 

Pilgrimage, A. (Poem.) 674 

Pinero. The Plays of. (Chronicle.) 256 

"Pistols for Two." (Chronicle.) 254 

"Plays." Alexander Ostrovsky 484 

"Plays." Jacinto Benevcnte 607 

Plume, The. (Poem.) 574 



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Index 



IX 



Pompeii. (Poem.) Anne McCormick 604 

Prayer Before Summer. (Poem.) 279 

Preludes. (Poem.) 278 

"Prcicnt-Day Europe." T. Lothrop Stoddard. 2S9 
"President's C^mtrol of Foreign Relations, 

The." Edward S. Corwin 269 

President's Message, The. Editor 541 

President to the Pope. The. (Chronicle.) .... 181 
"President Wilson from an English Point of 

View." H. Wilson Harris 201 

"Priest of the Ideal." Stephen Graham 600 

Prince of Parthia, The. (Chronicle.) 398 

"Prince of Parthia, The." Thomas Godfrey. 346 
Principality of Cantu, The. (Illustrated.) 

Clair Kenamore 23 

"Principles of American Diplomacy." John 

Bassett Moore 269 

Principles Only. (Chronicle.) 254 

Prize War Poem, A. (Chronicle.) 553 

"Problems of the Playright" Qayton Hamil- 
ton. - 3SS 

Professor and the Garden, The. Grant 

Showerman 310 

Professor Recovers, The. Grant Showerman. 385 
"Pros and Cons of the Great War." Leanard 

A. Magnus 290 

Psychoanalysts, The. Haveloclc Ellis 49 

Putnam Weale, B. L. "The Fight for the Re- 
public of China." 267 

"Quito to Bogoti." A. C. Veatch 606 

Raemakers at Work. (Chronicle.) 663 

Ravage, M. E. "An American in the Mak- 
ing" 330 

Ravenel, Beatrice Witte. Amen. (Poem.).. 555 

The Decadentlet. (Poem.) 285 

Readers' Guide to Latest Books 104, 215 

"Rebirth of Russia, The." Isaac F. Marcos- 
son 483 

"Rebuilding of Europe, The." David Jayne 

Hill 286 

"Reconstruction of Poland and the Near East, 

The." Herbert Adams Gibbons 290 

Reese, Lizette Woodworth. To Myself. 

(Poem.) 667 

Rejected Imagination. (Chronicle.) 188 

"Representative Plays by American Drama- 
tists." 347 

"Renascence and Other Poems."- Edna St. 

Vincent Millay 682 

Revolution Absolute, The. Charles Fergu- 
son 647 

Rhodes, James Ford. "History of the Civil 

War." S92 

Richardson, Henry Handel. "Maurice 

Guest." s8o 

**The Fortunes of Richard Mahoney.".. 580 

Rihani, Ameen. The Holy Land: Whose to 

Have and to Hold 7 

Rittenhouse, Jessie B. Contemporary Poetry. 

438, S7S, 678 
Rivenburgh, Eleanor. Stevenson in Hawaii. 

(Illustrated.) 1 13> a95> 45^ 

Rives, Hallie Erminie. "The Long Lane's 

Turning." 98 

Robinson, Luther E. On Politics and History. 267 
The Civil War and After 59a 



Rodin, A Good Book On, (Chronicle.) 662 

Rodin, Auguste. Jules Bois 523 

Rogers, Lindsay. "America's Case Against 

Germany." 289 

"Romance of the Romanoffs, The." Joseph 

McCabe 484 

Romanoff Princess, A. Joseph McCabe 1 54 

Rothschild, Alonzo. "Honest Abe." 594 

Ruck, Berta. "Miss Million's Maid." 693 

"Russia in 191 6." Stephen Graham 482 

Russia in Revolution. (Chronicle.) 74 

"Russia of Yesterday and To-morrow." Bar- 
oness Souiny 483 

"Russian Court Memoris, 1914 — 1916." 482 

"Russian Memoirs." Mme. Olga Novikoff... 483 
"Russian Poets and Poems, '(^assies' and 

Moderns.'" Mme. N. Jarintzov 485 

"Russian Revolution, The." Isaak Don Le- 

vine 483 

"Russians: An Interpretation, The." Richard- 
son Wright 482 

Sabatini, Rafae^. "The Snare." 206 

"Sacrifice and Other Plays." Sir Rabindra- 

nath Tagore 349 

Salter, William M. "Nietzsche the Thinker." 290 
Saltykov, Mikhail Y. "A Family of Noble- 
men," 485 

Scarborough, Dorothy. "The Supernatural in 

Modern English Fiction." 611 

Schierbrand, Wolf von. "Austria-Hungary.". 726 

Schinz, Albert About France 292 

Science and Learning in France 445 

Science and Learning in France. Albert 

Schinz. 445 

Scollard, Clinton. "Elegy in Autumn." 682 

"Lyrics from a Library."..' 683 

— My Library. (Poem.) 540 

"Second Fiddle, The." Phyllis Bottome 491 

"Secret Bread." F. Tennyson Jesse 486 

"Secrets of Arctic Travel." Rear Admiral 

Robert E. Peary 334 

"Sense of the Past, The." Henry James...* 690 

"Sentiment." Vincent O'Sullivan 693 

"Seth Way." Caroline Dale Owen 602 

Sherman (Professor). His "Humanism." 

(Chronicle.) 656 

Sherman (Professor). Literary Critic. 

(Chronicle.) 655 

"Shield, The." 484 

"Shining Heights, The." L A. R. Wylie C94 

"Short History of England, A." G. K. Ches- 
terton 270 

Short Story in America, The. (Chronicle.).. 187 
Showerman, Grant. The Professor and the 

Garden 3 > » 

The Professor Recovers 385 

Snap-Shots of American Authors. (Poem.) 

Richard Butler Glaenzcr 579 

Snap-Shots of American Novelists. (Poem.) 

Richard Butler Glaenzer 28, 66, 169 

Snap-Shots of English Authors: G.K.C. 

(Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenzer 164 

Snap-Shots of Foreign Authors: Loti. 

(Poem.) Richard Butler Glaenzer 695 

"Snare, The." Rafael Sabatini 206 



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Some Art Books of the Year. Richard Bur- 
ton 477 

Some Conductors and Their Batons. (Illus- 
trated.) Frederic Dean 585 

"Some Imagist Poets." 439 

Some Memories and an Impression. Frances 

Evelyn Warwick 561 

Some Recent Books of War Adventure. C. 

M. Francis 450 

Some Stories of the Month. H. W. Boyn- 

ton 93, 205 

Some Truths and More Surmises About 

Women. Edna Kenton 343 

Song for the New Crusade. (Poem.) Glenn 

Ward Dresbach 142 

**Sonia: Between Two Worlds." Stephen 

McKenna 205 

"Son of the Middle Border, A." Hamlin 

Garland 327 

"Sorry Tale," and Other Books in Perspec- 
tive 350 

"Sorry Tales, The." Patience Worth 350 

Souiny, Baroness. "Russia of Yesterday and 

To-morrow." 483 

"Soul of a Bishop. The." H. G. Wells . 353 

South American Literature for 1917. Thomas 

Walsh 60s 

"South American Tour, The." Annie M. 

Peck 605 

Sower Who Reaped the Sea, The. (Poem.) 

Glenn Ward Dresbach 67 

Speaking of Russia. Abraham Yarmolinsky. 149 
Spiritism in England. Robert Mountsier... 513 
Spiritualism, Good and Bad. (Chronicle.) . . 72 
Stanton, Stephen Berrien. The Dangers of 

Democracy 29 

Stevenson in Hawaii. (Illustrated.) Eleanor 

Rivenburgh 113, 295, 452 

Stoddard, T. Lothrop. "Present-Day Eur- 
ope." 289 

Stork, Charles Wharton. To a Bibliophile. 

tPoem.) 706 

Street, Julian. "American Adventures.".... 335 
Stroll Through the Fair of Fiction, A. H. 

W. Boynton 337 

Strong, Theron G. "Joseph H. Choate." 328 

"Substance of Gothic, The." Ralph Adams 

Cram 477 

Suffrage Argument, A. (Chronicle.) 551 

Sullivan, Alan. "The Inner Door." 97 

"Summer." Edith Wharton 93 

"Supernatural in Modern English Fiction, 

The " Dorothy Scarborough 611 

Tagore, feir Rabindranath. "Nationalism.". . 290 

"Sacrifice and Other Plays." 349 

Tarbell, Ida M. "The Life of Abraham Lin- 
coln." 326 

Tassin, Algernon. The Little Theatre an 

Open Door ? 346 

Teasdale, Sara. "Love Songs." 441 

"The Answering Voice." 441 

Teuton Efficiency. (Chronicle.) 660 

Theatre Du Vieux Colombier, Le. Clayton 

Hamilton 534 

Theological Heroes. (Chronicle.) 400 

"These Many Years." Brander Matthews... 357 



They Are Now "Crumps." (Chronicle.) SS4 

'Three Black Pennys, The." Joseph Herges- 

heimer 487 

Three Books of the Month 609, 723 

"Three's a Crowd." William C:aine 692 

"Three Welsh Plays." Jeannettc Marks 349 

Thurston. Carl H. P. A Legislated Peace... i 

Is the Pen Swifter Than the Sword? 286 

To a Bibliophile. (Poem.) Charles Wharton 

Stork 706 

To Butterfly. (Poem.) '. 47 

To Hasten Peace. (Chronicle.) 393 

Tompkins, Ellen Wilkins. **Thc Enlighten- 
ment of Paulina." 691 

To Myself. (Poem.) Lizette Woodworth 

Reese 667 

To Penetrate the German Morale. (Chron- 
icle.) 393 

"Tortoise, The." E. F. Benson 491 

Train, Arthur. "The World and Thomas 

Kelly." 602 

Travel in War Time. Arthur M. Chase 334 

"Treloars, The." Mary Fisher 209 

"Trip to Lotus Land, A." Archie Bell 335 

"Triumph, The." Will N. Harben 207 

"Turkey, Greece and the Great Powers." G. 

F. Abbott 289 

Twenty Stars to Match His Face. (Poem.) . 427 
"Twilight of the Souls, The." Louis Cou- 

perus 489 

Two Plays for Grown-Ups. Clayton Ham- 
ilton 473 

Two Reviews of the Month 89 

Tyutchev, Fyodor. Dreams. (Poem.) 77 

"Uncollected Letters of Abraham Lincoln.".. 595 

"Unconquered." Maud Diver 694 

Unhampered Imagination. (Chronicle.) 187 

University Militant, The. Charles Ferguson. 369 
"Unseen Host and Other War Plays, The." 

Percival Wilde 349 

"Vagabonding Down the Andes." Harry A. 

Franck 334 

Vanished Cathedrals of France. (Chronicle.) 402 

Veatch, A. C. "Quito to Bogoti" 605 

Veblen, Thorstein. "An Inquiry into the Na- 
ture of Peace." 287 

Verrill, A. Hyatt. "The Book of the West 

Indies." 335 

"Victorious Faith, The." Horatio W. Dres- 
ser 290 

"Voice in the Silence, The." Thomas S. 

Jones, Jr 443 

Wagner, Frau Cosima. (Illustrated.) Archie 

Bell 78 

Walcott, John. For the Young and Less 

Young 493 

Waldstein, Sir Charles. "Aristodemocracy. 
From the Great War Back to Moses, 

Christ, and Plato." 290 

Wallace, David D. "The Government of Eng- 
land." 270 

Walpole, Hugh. "The Green Mirror." 598 

Walsh, Thomas. South American Literature 

for 1917 605 

Walton, Sydney. Charles Lamb on the Crown 

Prince 308 



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XI 



"War and Humanity, The." James M. Beck. 289 

War and Religion. Abram S. Isaacs 381 

War-Crics. (Poem translation.) 554 

Ward, Mrs. Humphry. 'Missing.' 599 

Warwick, Countess of. **A Woman and the 

War." 344 

Warwick, Frances Evelyn. (Countess of 

Warwick.) Kingship in the Balance 246 

The Ex-Czarina 561 

We Must Go 143 

Washington Square. (Illustrated.) James L. 

Ford 18 

Watson, Lucia Norwood. At Mass for the 

Soul of Sister Helena. (Poem.) 146 

Wawn, F. T. 'The Joyful Years." 96 

"Way of Martha and. the Way of Mary, Tb«i." 

Stephen Graham 482 

"We Can't Have Everything." Rupert 

Hughes ' aio 

Wells, H. G. "The Soul of a Bishop." 353 

Wellsian Pastime. A. (Chronicle.) 185 

Wells (Mr.) and Bishops. (Chronicle.) 399 

We Must Face It. (Chronicle.) 181 

We Must Go. Frances Evelyn Warwick 143 

Wet Woods, The. (Poem.) 280 

Wharton, Edith. "Summer." 93 

"Wheels and Pinions." Blanche Colton Wil- 
liams 317 

When RosiU Renard Plays. (Illustrated.) 

Frederic Dean 462 

Whitman, (Walt) Personal Memories of. 

(Illustrated.) Alma Calder Johnston... 404 
Whitton, Major F. E. "The Mamc Cam- 

paign." 289 

"Who Can Be Happy and Free in Russia?" 

Nicholas Nekrassov. . ; s . 485 

Wiers-Jenssen, H. "Anne Perdersdotter.". . . 349 



Wilde, Pcrcival. The Unseen Host and 

Other War Plays." 349 

Williams, Blanche Colton. "A Handbook on 

Story-Writing." 612 

The Mastery of Surprise 165 

"Wheels and Pinions." 317 

"William the Second." S. C. Hammer 290 

"Will to Freedom, The." John Neville Figgis. 290 
"Wilson and the Issues." George Creel... 204 
Wilson (President) in Contemporary Critique. 

Luther E. Robinson 201 

Wise Virgins, And. ■ (Chronicle.) 657 

"Witness, The." Grace L. H. Lutz 601 

"Woman and the War, A." Countess of War- 

wick 344 

Women and National Defence. Louise Maun- 

sell Field 557 

"Women and Work." Helen Bennett 345 

Women of Germany, The. Gertrude Atherton 630 
"Woodrow Wilson as President." E. C. 

Brooks 204 

"Woodrow Wilson, the Man and His Work." 

Henry Jones Ford 203 

"World and Thomas Kelly, The." Arthur 

Train 602 

"World in Ferment, A." Nicholas Murray 

Butler 289 

World Organised, A. (Chronicle.) 393 

World Parliament, A. (Chronicle.) 69 

Worth, Patience (Mrs. John H. Curran.) 

"The Sorry Tale." 3S0 

Wright, Richardson. "The Russians: An In- 
terpretation." 482 

Wylie, I. A. R. "The Shining Heights." 694 

Yarmolinsky, Abraham. Exploring Russia... 481 

Speaking of Russia 149 

"Your National Parks." Enos A. Mills 213 

"Zella Sees Herself." E. M. Delafield 490 



PART IL— INDEX TO ILLUSTRATIONS 



"Among Us Mortals." 547 

Anderson, Mrs. Larz 1 89 

Arden, Cecil 261 

Asch, Sholom 663 

Atherton, Gertrude 402 

Babcock, Edwin Stanton 697 

Beck, James M 257 

"Belmont," Paul Kester's Home 76 

Brubaker, Howard. (Brevities — October.) . . . 

Burt. Maxwell Struthers 697 

Bynner, Witter. (Brevities — December) 

Campanini, Cleofonte 59J 

Cantu, Colonel Esteban 24 

Carson, Norma Bright 55 J 

Cobb, Irwin S 698 

Conrad, Joseph 658 

"Conscript 2989." 661 

"Crumps" What's the Use? 355 

Damrosch, Walter 585 

Dwight, H. G 669 



Ficke, Arthur Davison. (Brevities — Decem- 
ber) 

Frank, Waldo 700 

Galli-Curci, Amelita 263 

Garland Homestead, West Salem, Wisconsin. 550 

Gibson, Hugh 4^3 

Glaspell. Susan -"^z^' 

Greene, Captain Frederick Stuart ^ .189 

Hamilton, Clayton 257 

Hartman, Lee Foster 70-2 

Houghteling, Captain James L., Jr 659 

Kester, Paul 77 

Kline, Burton '. 7^3 

Kyne, Captain Peter B 664 

"Land of His Fathers, The." (Chronicle) ... 74 

Lewis, Addison 703 

Lincoln, Abraham 401 

Liszt, Franz 79 

"Ix)iterer in New York, A." 549 

Lubimova, Taraara 587 



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xii Index 

lifcCutcheon, George Barr 190 Synon, Mary 704 

Monteux, Pierre 590 Tarkington, Booth 259 

Morley, Qiristopher 657 Teasdale, Sara (Mrs. E. B. Filsinger.) 

Peterson, May 264. (Brevities — September.) 

Pinski, David 66a Wagner, Frau Cosima 79 

Renard, Rosita ^ 463 Washington Square 19-22 

Service, Robert W. (Brevities— November).. Wheeler, Mrs, Post 661 

Some Conductors and Their Batons 585-591 Wheeler, Post 661 

Steele, Wilbur Daniel 704 White, Major Stewart Edward 664 

Stevenson in Hawaii 113*123, 297-304, 457-460 Whitman (Walt) Personal Memories of.. 405-408 

Stransky, Josef 589 Widdemer, Margaret. (Brevities — December) . 



Ati' 



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THE BOOKMAN 



A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE AND LIFE 



SEPTEMBER, 1917 



A LEGISLATED PEACE 



BY CARL H. P. THURSTON 



I 



Our allies, with the notable exception 
of Russia, seem to have determined that 
there shall be no peace until it can he, 
dictated to a thoroughly defeated Ger- 
many; and a campaign to win our al- 
legiance to this programme is being 
carried on with great energy. To our 
surface emotions it makes a strong ap- 
peal. We want to "lick" Germany 
because we are filled with righteous 
indignation at her crimes, and we want 
to "win the war" decisively because we 
cannot help thinking of it as a sublime 
game in which a tie would be almost as 
discreditable as a defeat. Yet deeper 
than these, and more powerful than 
either, is our desire to put an end to 
war forever; and it is this that will de- 
termine our ultimate policy. 

From this point of view there are 
three fundamental objections to the pro- 
posed plan : 

First, it provides too fertile a soil 
for the absurd superstition that when 
Germany has once been crushed war 
will automatically vanish from the sur- 
face of the earth. Under the spell of 
this belief, ably invoked by those dark 
forces which are working in every na- 
tion for the preservation of war, we 
shall undoubtedly fail to take adequate 

Vol. XLVI, No. 1. 



precautions against future appeals to 
arms by other nations. 

Second, any terms which would 
satisfy a triumphantly victorious coali- 
tion would fill Germany and her allies 
with such bitter resentment that a war 
for revenge would be inevitable within 
a generation. The deposition of the 
HohenzoUerns would be particularly 
dangerous. 

Third, no one has yet proposed any 
measures, short of the total extermina- 
tion of the race, which would make it 
definitely ii 'possible for Germany to 
make war once more if the will to war 
remained. We are asked to Ijave a blind 
faith in the virtue of a military triumph. 

Remembering also that this is the 
costliest of all possible plans, for it 
would unite every German, Liberal as 
well as Conservative, in a determination 
to fight to the last mark and the last 
drop of blood rather than deliver his 
Fatherland to the tender mercies of its 
enemies, it would seem advisable to give 
the alternatives a more serious consid- 
eration than our war party has yet per- 
mitted. 

II 

The favourite remedy of diplomats in 
whose hands a troublesome war has been 
placed for treatment is the negotiated 



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A Legislated Peace 



peace. By a delicate adjustment of 
boundaries, fortresses, colonies, spheres 
of influence, and indemnities they satisfy 
national aspirations, smooth down ruf- 
fled dignities and restore for the time 
being that precarious state of equilibrium 
which we call peace. But at best it is 
only a makeshift, a temporary sop to 
the dogs of war. The pangs of land- 
hunger arise once more, grievances accu- 
mulate, and the world discovers that its 
peace conference has after all done noth- 
ing to keep it from tumbling helplessly 
into another war. 

But this most stupendous of wars has 
outgrown, or is at least in the process 
of outgrowing, the negotiated peace, just 
as it has outgrown most of the other- ap- 
paratus which it inherited from the past : 
weapons, uniforms, tactics, generals, 
cabinets, kings and czars, constitutions, 
and even human liberties. It is not 
merely that a larger proportion of the 
intelligentsia than ever before fias de- 
termined that the peace which ends this 
conflict must be as durable a peace as 
the human mind can construct — that 
alone would not be enough. But be- 
neath that lies the intense and wide- 
spread passion that has persistently 
hailed this war as first of all a war for 
principle. It has not been the war for 
England, or for Italy, or for Russia, or 
even for France, but the war for the 
little nations, the war to end war, 
the war for civilisation, and the war 
for democracy. The idealism of the 
people will never permit it to end in a 
sordid trading across a mahogany table. 

To this determination the idea of a 
dictated peace makes a certain appeal. 
It is able to pose as a peace based firmly 
ort principle — the prindple of nationality, 
the safety of the little nations, restitu- 
tion, reparation, and guarantees, and all 
that. But however noble the principles 
evoked to grace a dictated peace, their 
practical application is always so ludi- 
crously one-sided that they are soon de- 
graded to the rank of pretexts. The 
Trentino is made over to Italy because 
it is inhabited by Italians, but the Ger- 
mans in Alsace-Lorraine are blandly ig- 



nored. These troublesome provinces are 
returned to France because their seizure 
in 1 87 1 was a wicked act of aggression; 
but Egypt, Tripoli, Morocco, Mace- 
donia and Gibraltar remain where they 
are. Bohemia is freed from Austria and 
Poland from Prussia, but Ireland has to 
be content with one more promise of 
home rule. When the diplomats have 
finished applying the fine phrases of the 
nation to the map they retam about as 
much resemblance to principles as might 
has to right. To many people in this 
country this fact is very obvious, and it 
is the chief source of their unwillingness 
to fight the war to a finish. 

Beneath the passion for principle 
still another force is working against 
peace by negotiation, unconscious and 
inarticulate perhaps, but mighty. Never 
before has the burden of war — taxes, 
suffering and death — rested so heavily 
on so many of the plain people, the 
people to whom a son or a husband or a 
brother means much more than some 
distant strip of land. Never before have 
so many peoples been united in a single 
cause, or has a common sympathy been 
so widespread. There is a growing 
tendency to think oftener of the common 
woes of humanity than of the isolated 
grievances of states. A distrust of 
statesmen and a suspicion of diplomats 
is abroad; the people want no more 
"delicate negotiations" and no more 
"crises." The conservatism of the peas- 
ant and the farmer is reaching out to- 
ward a more stable world. Whether 
these forces or the old forces of a narrow 
nationalism will prevail no one can say, 
but it is significant that in the only land 
in which government has sprung fresh 
from the people and is not yet crusted 
over with tradition, the cry of "No an- 
nexations, no indemnities, and the free 
development of all nations" has gone 
out to the world. There is a contagion 
in these words which will be hard to 
combat. 

Ill 

The Russian formula has one great 
merit which has thus far received too 



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A Legislated Peace 



little attention ; it attacks war, as I shall 
try to show later, in its most vulnerable 
spot. But it is much too simple for 
this complicated world. If war is to 
be done away with, an intricate mech- 
anism must be set up in its place to 
arrange peacefully all those changes 
which are implied in a phrase like "the 
free development of nations." Terri- 
tory will have to change hands occasion- 
ally, rights will have to be enforced and 
wrongs punished^ conflicting policies 
will have to be reconciled. The three 
fundamental principles of the Russian 
declaration must be expanded into a 
network of practical laws; and in all 
this specialists in the art of government 
must play a large part. They should be 
forced to work, perhaps, in connection 
with men whose function might be com- 
pared to that of the tribunes of the 
people; but we cannot hope to secure 
world peace by mere acclamation. It 
must be laboriously worked out in con- 
vention. 

We come, in short, to the notion of 
peace by legislation as the natural goal 
toward which our hopes are tending. 

Just here we touch conservatism in 
Its most sensitive spot; the theory of 
the sovereignty of the state plays the 
same part in our politics that the theory 
of the divine right of kings did in an 
earlier age. At the sound of the 
word "legislation" every statesman will 
promptly exclaim that no nation could 
ever agree to be bound by a council of 
representatives from all the nations ; that 
no patriotic citizen would submit for 
a moment to such dictation. Few of the 
liberal-minded men who have organised 
the leagues to enforce peace in Eng- 
land and America have ventured to hope 
that the world was ready for a world 
parliament. 

But the notion of peace by legislation 
does not necessarily involve the creation 
of a permanent world parliament 
and the destruction of the old idea 
of sovereignty. It is very flexible, and 
can expand or contract as circumstances 
demand. It would demand nothing at 
first but an agreement among the bel- 



ligerents that instead of trying to dicker 
and compromise until they had achieved 
peace they would try to evolve certain 
principles by which all the questions in 
dispute might be resolved, and that these 
principles should be held valid for the 
future as well as for the present. If 
the conferees should find, after discus- 
sion among themselves and consultation 
with their governments, that they could 
go even farther than this, why so much 
the better; but no government would 
be asked at first to commit itself to more 
than this. The suggestions which fol- 
low later are only an indication of what 
might be hoped for under favorable con- 
ditions. 

To the mere outsider conditions do 
seem unusually favourable. For three 
years we have been engaged in batter- 
ing the extreme theory of state sover- 
eignty that flourishes in Prussia; and it 
would seem that some of our blows must 
have recoiled on our own theories and 
weakened their defences to a considerable 
extent. They had already begun to 
show the effects of the growth of the 
civilised world during the past century 
toward homogeneity and interdepend- 
ence. As far back as 1815 the 
Congress of Vienna laid down certain 
principles for the control of navigation 
on international rivers and they were 
generally accepted as binding on all na- 
tions. Since then commerce and trans- 
portation have shown such a thoughtless 
disregard of national boundary lines that 
international regulation has become nec- 
essary in one field after another; and 
it has nearly always infringed on the 
free and independent sovereignty of the 
separate states. The postal service to 
foreign countries, telegraphs, wireless, 
quarantines and other questions of pub- 
lic health, railways, monetary systems, 
weights and measures, and a multitude 
of lesser interests have all been regu- 
lated by commissions which had power 
to bind the participating governments. 
Maritime law and labour legislation 
have been unified through the work of 
international committees; and we have 
an international copyright and an inter- 



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A Legislated Peace 



national registry of trade-marks. The 
conferences at The Hague have tended 
in the same direction, even though the 
Powers have not yet consented to be 
bound by their results until they have 
officially accepted them. 

Our Mexican troubles and our pa- 
tience in the face of the German sub- 
marine campaign have shown that in 
this country, at least, hair-trigger pa- 
triotism has lost its popularity. We have 
seen already that in the rest of the 
world patriotism alone has proved in- 
sufficient as an inspiration to battle. 
And in the last of the many war cries 
which have been brought in to supple- 
ment it, "the war for democracy," there 
is still further hope. If the world has 
really begun to care enough for democ- 
racy to fight for it, is it too much to 
expect that it will be willing to trust 
it a little further than ever before? 
to experiment a little more boldly with 
an international democracy? Again, 
after having sacrificed millions of 
lives and billions of dollars in a war 
to end war, could we be genuinely un- 
willing to add to these in order that 
they might not have been offered alto- 
gether in vain, the sacrifice to a world 
parliament of some small fragment of 
our right of local self-government? 
Would it be so much harder for an 
American to submit occasionally to the 
decision of a majority of Englishmen, 
Frenchmen and Italians in some purely 
international question than for a Repub- 
lican to submit a hundred times as often 
to a Democratic majority in city, state 
and nation? 

Yet there does exist an antagonism to 
the idea, and about it one curious fact 
should be noted. In recent years few 
men have been willing to admit that 
they themselves would find the tyranny 
of a world parliament unendurable. 
Most of us think our own particular 
selves too enlightened for that. It is 
always "the state," or "no true patriot," 
or "the plain people," or "the govern- 
ment," or "our interests," or some other 
remote abstraction to which these in- 
tractable sentiments are attributed. Wc 



arc simply dealing with one more of 
those political bubbles which were blown 
in an age of autocracy and national iso- 
lation and have little relation to the 
present era. If it has not yet been punc- 
tured it is chiefly because it has drifted 
off into an ethereal altitude at which it 
cannot easily be reached. 

IV 

Peace by legislation has a further ad- 
vantage over both the traditional types 
of peace. Its machinery could be set in 
motion at once, without waiting for the 
end of the war ; for its terms would not 
depend on the magnitude of our military 
victory, but on the eternal principles of 
justice and the nature of men and states. 
The very existence of its convention 
would be the strongest safeguard we 
could devise against the efforts of our 
own reactionaries to convert this into a 
war for conquest and revenge, and the 
most powerful weapon we could forge 
against the reactionaries in Germany, 
who are able to control the people only 
by making them believe that we are al- 
ready waging a war for conquest and 
for conquest only. The troublesome 
question of sovereignty, as I have said, 
would not have to be dealt with at the 
beginning. The argument that we need 
all our energies and all our brain power 
to defeat Germany and have none to 
spare for peace need not be taken seri- 
ously. 

A certain element, filled with the self- 
righteousness that has been the chief 
by-product of the war, would assert that 
only the belligerent Allies were morally 
fit to legislate for the world, and that 
the Central Powers must be excluded 
from the convention. Others would 
wish to include Austria, Turkey and 
Bulgaria, but bar Germany. A prac- 
tical majority, however, would probably 
decide that it was better to risk the 
possibility that the Teuton delegates 
might corrupt the rest of the world than 
to reject their views without a hearing. 
And their presence there at all, what- 
ever their political colour, would be a 



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A Legislated Peace 



powerful lever in the hands of German 
and Austrian Liberals. 

The question of the relative voting 
power to be given to the Great Powers 
and to the smaller states, which has 
caused so much bickering at other inter- 
national conferences and has been such 
an obstacle to concerted action, could 
now be disposed of quite simply. The 
smaller belligerents have already grown 
accustomed to having their fate settled 
quite arbitrarily by their more powerful 
allies, and they would be thankful for 
whatever representation might be ac- 
corded them. The states that are still 
neutral might be invited to participate 
in the convention if they were willing 
to accept the representation allotted to 
them. It would be desirable to make 
the terms liberal enough to attract a good 
majority of them, for the success of 
peace by legislation would depend, from 
every point of view, on its universality. 

The method of choosing delegates 
might profitably be left to the separate 
states. The same causes which have 
produced coalition cabinets would prob- 
ably assure representation for every im- 
portant group within each nation. 

The Hague would have first claim 
to be the place of meeting for the con- 
vention. 



The Sudden development of the art 
of aviation in the last dozen years has 
made us all more cautious in the use of 
the word "impractical." And the idea 
of the World State, although its larval, 
worm-like, or contemptible stage, has 
been many centuries shorter than that of 
the art of flying, has already reached a 
more advanced state than the latter 
could boast of fifteen years ago. Many 
people already believe that it will 
come within a few generations at the 
most. Not a few dare to hope that we 
are already on the verge of it. 

Is it too much to imagine our conven- 
tion to legislate peace being allowed to 
report two alternative plans to its gov- 
ernments, a timid one and a bold one — 
if it is still too Utopian to expect it 



to present the bold one alone? The 
timid one would probably provide for a 
plebiscite of the inhabitants of any dis- 
puted territory, such as Alsace-Lorraine, 
promise certain liberties to racial minori- 
ties throughout the world, reduce arma- 
ments, forbid discriminatory tariffs, pro- 
vide for free access to the sea for all 
nations, regulate commerce in all unde- 
veloped countries, and provide some 
means of international reparation for 
citizens who have just claims against 
a foreign state. There would also be 
some indemnities for claims growing out 
of this war. It would try to discourage 
war in the future by organising the 
world into some form of the League to 
Agree to Arbitrate. 

The bold plan would write, "War 
must go!" at the top of the page and 
subordinate everything else to that one 
end. Instead of merely piling up ob- 
stacles in the way of any nation that 
found itself in a belligerent mood, in the 
hope that before they were removed the 
people would have cooled off sufficiently 
to accept some peaceful solution, it 
would go to the root of the matter and 
starve out war by rendering it unprofit- 
able, "Go to war as often as you like," 
it would say to quarrelsome and ambi- 
tious nations, "but remember that we, 
the rest of the world, will not permit 
you to gain anything by it. If you 
seize territory we shall take it away 
from you. If you collect an indemnity, 
we shall force you to return it. If you 
destroy a city, you must rebuild it." 
For the sake of a clean start and to 
show good faith, thc^ belligerent na- 
tions would give up annexations and 
indemnities. They would admit that 
even though Germany had started the 
war their own inertia in failing to or- 
ganise the world sooner was largely 
responsible, and they would not ask for 
damages. Belgium, of course, would 
get an indemnity, for her case had been 
provided for; and there might be a few 
other claims based on the violation of 
well-established law. But for the most 
part they would take their medicine. 

An international police would be set 



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A Legislated Peace 



up to enforce these rules. An interna- 
tional police does not seem so imprac- 
tical as it did before all the races of the 
world had fought side by side for three 
years and more in France and Flanders. 
Quartering a certain percentage of the 
troops of each nation in foreign lands 
would make them readily accessible for 
service wherever they might be needed. 
Each nation would agree to furnish ad- 
ditional quotas whenever they might be 
needed. 

It would be frankly recognised that 
adjustments of territory, colonies, mar- 
kets, tariffs and immigration laws, which 
have always in the past been accom- 
plished by war, will still be necessary. 
The principles suggested in the other 
plan for the settlement of the questions 
arising out of this war would be ac- 
cepted as the basis for the settlement of 
future disputes, and others would be 
added from time to time as the world 
demanded them. Courts would be set 
up to which cases based on these rules 
and on the common body of interna- 
tional law might be referred. Councils 
of conciliation and arbitration commis- 
sions would attempt to find satisfactory 
solutions of the cases which the law did 
not cover. Decisions according to law 
would be enforced; acceptance of arbi- 
tration would be voluntary. There 
would be some form of permanent 
executive. 

VI 

In former times it would have been 
in order to speak of the immense diffi- 
culties involved in the organisation of 
such a project, but now it would only 
be a mark of disrespect to our allies. 
The erection of the administrative 
structure of a world state would 
hardly be worth mentioning beside their 
achievements of the past three years. 
The only obstacles that demand serious 
consideration are the sentimental ones, 
and the best way to determine their 
strength is to give the plan a trial. 
Three years ago anyone who prophesied 
that both England and America would 
adopt conscription would have been 



laughed into silence, but it has been 
done, and done successfully. If the idea 
of the world state seemed worth while 
it could unquestionably be "put over" 
within a few years, and without asking 
for more than five per cent, of the an- 
nual cost of the war as an advertising 
appropriation. 

If the idea were fundamentally un- 
sound, the most lavish use of books, 
newspapers, billboards, speeches, cele- 
brations, monuments, parades and mov- 
ing pictures would fail to make it popu- 
lar. But it is only an extension of the 
basis of all civilised life, the doctrine 
that title to property shall never pass 
from one hand to another by extortion, 
but only by contract or due process of 
law. It offers a greater security to each 
nation than an enforced appeal to arbi- 
tration; and its vigourous, constructive 
programme makes a stronger appeal to 
individual loyalty as well. Even if it 
should break down, the arbitration 
scheme could be held in reserve as a 
second line of defence against revolution 
or civil war. And neither of these 
bogies is alarming enough to deter us. 
We are too well aware that if we 
take no precautions at all we shall have 
to face them anyway, under another 
name. 

The vital question is. How would it 
affect Germany? The auspices are all 
favourable. We know that a majority 
of the German people are, by nature, 
lovers of peace. Whatever their atti- 
tude toward treaties, it has become sec- 
ond nature to them to respect and obey 
a law. We know from England's re- 
ception when she entered the war how 
little stomach they have for actually 
facing the whole world on the field of 
battle. Those who have followed the 
debates in the Reichstag before this war 
know how necessary it was to appeal to 
fear of Russian imperialism and French 
revanche to secure appropriations for 
a large military establishment. With 
nothing more to fear on any side, and 
with a tremendous national debt on their 
hands, it would be difficult for the most 
supreme war lords to keep the martial 



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The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 



spirit alive. The pan-Germans them- 
selves are not all Thors, Chamberlains 
and Bemhardis. Many would turn with 
relief to the new peaceful methods of 
fulfilling their national aspirations. And 
when the German troops have returned 
from their long years in the trenches, 
and the frontiers are once more opened, 
the censorship abolished, and the co- 
hesive force of war removed, William 



II. and his adherents will have to face 
a fiercer opposition and a sterner ques- 
tioning than the history of the Hohen- 
zoUerns has yet recorded. Whatever 
freedom the German people succeed in 
gaining for themselves will be worth 
twice as much to the world as an un- 
limited amount of democracy forced 
upon them. The goose-step is out of 
place on the path to Liberty. 



THE HOLY LAND : WHOSE TO HAVE 
AND TO HOLD 



BY AMEEN RIHANI 



The Holy Land is the home to-day of 
the Mohammedan, the Christian and 
the Jew, to mention them in the order 
of population. And never in its history 
has the problem of Who Shall Rule the 
Q>untry been solved to the satisfaction of 
all the people that are historically, ra- 
cially and religiously related to it. The 
Romans solved it to the satisfaction of 
Rome; the Arabs solved it to the satis- 
faction of Islam; the Crusades solved 
it partly to the satisfaction of Chris- 
tendom; the Turks solved it according 
to the will and pleasure of the Padishah ; 
but in every instance, from our modern 
point of view, the sword of conquest 
ultimately failed. Nor did European 
diplomacy, which complacently toler- 
ated the Turk for four long centuries, 
succeed in finding any better solution 
than that which engendered the Eastern 
Question and the capitulation scheme. 
And now that the Turks have abolished 
the capitulations and are at war with 
civilisation itself, one of the great 
Powers of Christian Europe is trying 
again, both by diplomacy and the sword, 
to cut the Gordian Knot of Palestine. 
I did not mention the Jews, who had no 
chance whatever in the past and who 
would solve the problem to-day by 
Zionism and agricultural projects. Of 



course a temporary solution is possible 
again any time either by conquest or 
purchase or diplomacy. The Jews have 
the money to buy the Holy Land ; Eng- 
land has the men to conquer it ; Italy or 
France, through diplomatic bargainings 
and precarious political combinations, 
may acquire control of the country. But 
any of these solutions, as history proves, 
has no permanent value, is only a repe- 
tition of past experiments that succeeded 
only in further complicating the prob- 
lem. And in the light of modern civili- 
sation the world has a right to demand 
and to expect a better, a broader, a more 
just and permanent solution. 

Who is to Have and to Hold the Holy 
Land? postulates the question: Who 
is to be the future arbiter of its destinies, 
the recognised head of its people? — 
recognised not only by the Christian 
world, but also by the Mohammedans 
and the Jews. In other words. Who is 
to be the master ruler and builder of 
the people and the land? To be sure, 
no Christian Power to-day, in its aspi- 
rations to annex Palestine to its do- 
minions, is in any way actuated by the 
ancient crusading spirit. There may be 
a leaven of religious sentiment at the 
heart of its strivings, but religious fanati- 
cism, religious madness, is dead. On the 



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The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 



other hand, the Holy Land is not at- 
tractive enough commercidly, agricul- 
turally or economically to engage the in- 
terest of the least Chauvinistic of the 
champions in Europe of the policy of 
conquest and expansion. Why, then, 
should it continue to be so coveted and 
desired? For there is no doubt that 
any of the great Powers of Europe, at 
any other time but this, were the ques- 
tion, Who Shall Have Absolute Control 
of Palestine? opened for discussion and 
final settlement, would draw the sword 
for it. An insignificant spot like Akaba, 
once almost precipitated a war between 
England and Turkey. And last March 
the English troops might have taken 
Gaza and marched into Jerusalem were 
it not for one of England's allies ; for it 
is now certain that not for military, but 
rather mainly for political reasons, did 
the English expedition halt five miles 
south of Gaza. Soon after that Mr. 
Lloyd George went over to one of the 
coast towns of France, where he met 
representatives of the French and the 
Italian governments; and a few days 
later it was reported in the press that 
Italian troops were to join the British- 
Palestine expedition. 

There may be a sort of religious mo- 
tive, a Church motive rather, in Italy's 
desire to participate in the expedition. 
In recent years, befor the war, Italy has 
been trying to replace France as the 
protector of the Near East Christians, 
and the Vatican encouraged its ambition 
and supported its claims. To be sure, 
the Vatican would desire that a Catholic 
power control the holy places of Chris- 
tendom. Hence the move that Italy 
made. But it can hardly be said that 
England is acting under clerical pres- 
sure and guidance in her plan of con- 
quest. England wants Palestine not 
for itself, but for what there is beyond 
it — not as an object, but as a means. 
It is now an open secret that she wants 
to extend her line of occupation to Haifa 
to have control of the Hijaz railway and 
thus keep an eye and a hand on the 
new Arab kingdom of Hijaz. Moreover, 
some English statesmen seem to think 



that the P<»ver holding Egypt should 
also acquire Palestine, which otherwise 
might become a perpetual menace to 
Egjrpt's safety. And should England's 
ambition be opposed by her allies or 
one or two of them she would likely use 
the Jews as a means to the accomplish- 
ment of her end. A British-Palestine 
Committee has already been formed in 
England with a weekly organ Palestine 
"to urge upon the British Government 
the importance of including Palestine 
within the British Empire when the 
peace settlement comes to be made, and 
of giving every facility and encourage- 
ment for the development in Palestine 
of a Jewish national life." 

In other words, England might 
champion Zionism if Zionism helps her 
to get Palestine. And if her allies now 
refuse to let her enter alone into the 
country, and might in the final 
settlement of things refuse to let her 
occupy it, she has Zionism as an argu- 
ment in her favour; and, availing herself 
of that famous declaration of the Allies 
that every people has a right to choose 
its own government, will say to the 
objectors: But here are the Jews, who 
want to establish a Jewish State in 
Palestine under the protection of Eng- 
land. Napoleon employed the same 
tactics when he invited the Jews of 
Africa and Asia to place themselves 
under his leadership for the purpose of 
re-establishing ancient Jerusalem. In 
plain language, he wanted Jerusalem, 
and he would enter the city on the back 
'of the Jews, which the Jews were shrewd 
enough to see. Now, will England 
succeed where Napoleon failed? And 
will the Zionists be satisfied with such 
a solution of their problem? It is note- 
worthy that England long cherished 
this idea of Napoleon, for as far back 
as 1852 an Englishman published a 
pamphlet in which he advocated the 
establishment of a Jewish State, urging 
it as a matter of great importance to 
Great Britain for the purpose of safe- 
guarding the overland route to India. 

It is the purpose of this article to 
show that it is neither to the interest 



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The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 



of England nor the Jews nor the world 
that any one of the great Powers of 
Europe should occupy Palestine or that 
the Jews should be allowed to establish 
there a Zion State. It is not true, in 
the first place, that England's interests 
will be compromised or her sovereignty 
in Egypt threatened if she does not in- 
clude Palestine in the British Empire. 
On the contrary, if she installs herself 
north of the Arab desert, between Syria 
and Egypt, she will have to face a 
triple opposition, a triangle, so to speak, 
of antagonistic forces. For all of these 
countries, Egypt, Syria and Arabia are, 
unlike India, close to European anti- 
British influences and to the intrigues 
of European combinations opposed to 
England that will encourage and insti- 
gate all sorts of nationalist movements 
against her. There is already a move- 
ment on foot for the promotion of pan- 
Arabism, and it is not unlikely that the 
Arabs, the Syrians and the Egyptians will 
be united in the future in a common cause. 
As for the Hijaz railway, England can 
be within reach of it and can ultimately, 
if necessary, control it, better through 
Gaza than through Haifa. A branch 
line can be built straight from Gaza 
through Petra along the ancient Roman 
road to join the main line at Ma'an, 
and this will be a shorter and more con- 
venient branch than that of Haifa, which 
joins the main line at Dar'a after zig- 
zagging through the valley of Yar- 
mouk. 

It is not really Palestine, as I said, 
that England wants, but the economic 
opportunities and transporting facilities 
that the country affords. And it may 
be that her supreme interest is not in 
the Hijaz railway, but in the railway 
which in the future will connect the 
Mediterranean with the Persian Gulf, 
and which ¥nll be the shortest route to 
India, running through either upper or 
lower Syria. Does England then want 
Syria, too? It does not seem so to-day, 
if the high French authorities I have 
talked with are neither misinformed nor 
misguided. But she does want the 
control of an overland route to India; 



for she realises that the Bagdad railway 
will be connected by a branch line at 
Aleppo with Alexandretta, which sea- 
port is not likely to be under her direct 
control, and that the industrial and 
commercial developments of Syria and 
Mesopotamia will necessitate the con- 
struction of a direct line between Da- 
mascus and Bagdad, which will even- 
tually reduce the importance of the 
Suez Canal as the gate and chief high- 
way of the East. Hence her desire to 
have the control herself of an overland 
route to the Orient, which necessitates, 
it will be admitted, the control of one of 
the eastern Mediterranean ports. This 
brings us back to Gaza, the possible 
boundary, after the war, between Egypt 
and Palestine. And Gaza in the hands 
of England^ with the Tih desert behind 
it as a bulwark to Egypt and a branch 
line to Ma'an and thence through Da- 
mascus or Aleppo to Bagdad, will safe- 
guard her authority in the Valley of the 
Nile and give her the key to an overland 
route to India. If this is too long a 
route, however, it is possible to con- 
struct a railway straight through the 
desert along the line of 30 degrees lati- 
tude., following the ancient caravan route 
through Jauf to Basra — a railway al- 
ready contemplated, to be built with 
British capital and to be under British 
control. I do not think there will be 
any objection to this project, since it 
connects two ports occupied by England 
and renders unnecessary her occupation 
of Palestine under Zionist or other pre- 
texts. And if she renounces her plan of 
occupying Palestine she will, no doubt, 
advocate the broader principle that none 
of the great Powers of Europe should 
have absolute control of the land, and 
thus she will be helping to solve the 
problem in a way that is fundamentally 
just and justly modern — in a more com- 
prehensive, a more permanent and a 
more liberal manner. A solution based 
on the recognition of the spiritual and 
material rights and interests of all the 
parties concerned is what we want to- 
day. 

For not only the Christian world, but 



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lo The Holy Land ; Whose tp Have and to Hold 



the Mohammedans and the Jews, all 
have a claim on Palestine. Jerusalem, it 
will be recalled, was the proudest of the 
Khalif Omar's conquests, and to this 
day it remains to the devout Moslem the 
third of the three Holy Cities. Ismail 
is buried there according to Moham- 
medan tradition, and the Mosque of 
Omar is one of the famous sanctuaries 
of Islam. Conquest after conquest fol- 
lowed that of Omar. Abbasides and Fa- 
temites fought over the Holy City and 
the Land ; Seljuk Turks from Khorasan 
devastated the country; and the Mam- 
luke Bibars saved it from the Mongol 
hordes of Hulago the destroyer of Bag- 
dad. Tamerlane also visited Palestine, 
Sultan Selim marched through it .to con- 
quer Egypt, Napoleon tried to free it 
from the Turkish yoke and Mohammed 
Ali*s troops trod the same historic path. 
The Crusades, I need but mention; but 
the kingdom of Jerusalem died young 
and barren. Now the English expedition 
is within fifty miles of the Holy City. 
Are the experiments of the past, none of 
which can be said to have succeeded, 
to be repeated again? Are we to have 
another conquest to be followed by an- 
other war or another crusade? Modern 
civilisation says, No. The spirit of 
Democracy says. No. The chastened 
conscience of the world says. No! No! 
Neither England nor Italy, nor any 
other European Power, should enter Pal- 
estine as a conqueror, but as a liberator. 
Free it by all means of the Turks — 
break the yoke that Sultan Selim fas- 
tened upon the country and the people. 
The Turks have no more right to remain 
in Syria and Palestine than they have to 
remain in Arabia. But the Turk once 
gone and forever, inshallah, who will 
come to take his place? I did not ex- 
press myself rightly. For there is not 
one among the civilised Powers that 
can or will take the pkce of the Turk. 
Who is going to govern the country? 
is the question. Protestant England? 
The Vatican and the Catholic world 
will not consent to it. Catholic Italy? 
The Protestant world will protest. 
Orthodox Russia? Allowing that the 



New Regime will renounce its war 
policy of "no annexation and no indem- 
nity," both Protestantism and Catholi- 
cism will say. No. How can the jeal- 
ousies and the rivalries of the European 
Powers be overcome, or at least neu- 
tralised? By giving Palestine back to 
the Arabs — by establishing a successor 
there of the Khalif Omar? Personally, 
though a Syrian by birth and Arabic 
my native language and Young Arabia 
one of my pet subjects and dreams, I 
do not think the Arabs ought to be 
encouraged in extending their sway, at 
present, any further north than the 
boundaries of Hijaz, until they prove 
themselves capable of establishing and 
maintaining a liberal government, or of 
emulating, at least, their great ancestors 
of Cordova and Bagdad. Give them a 
chance ? Yes. And by all means let their 
independence and national integrity be 
respected. But the government of Pales- 
tine is certainly too big and too difficult 
a task for them now. 



II 



What about the Jews — the Zionists? 
A question that suggests another; 
namely. Is Zionism the best solution to 
the problem of Whose to Have and to 
Hold the Holy Land? I wish to say 
at the outset that I have no prejudice 
whatever against the Jews and that I 
am, to a certain extent, in sympathy with 
Zionism. I would even say with Mr. 
Zangwill: "Give the land without a 
people to the people without a land" if 
Palestine were really without a people 
and if the Jews were really without a 
land. But in England, in America, in 
Germany, even in Russia to-day, they 
^ are just as much at home as their poor 
' brethren in Palestine. They enjoy equal 
•rights and equal opportunities, to say 
the least, with the citizens of the coun- 
tries they have made their own. 

Why, then, should the Jews of the 
world want to be cooped and cribbed 
in Palestine? I am not certain that 
they do. And I am not certain, either, 
that the Jews of America, even the 



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The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 1 1 



ultra-Zionist element, would want to 
establish a Zion State in Palestine under 
the segis of England. But I maintain 
that such a State, whether under the 
protection of England or any other 
Power, or even independent in its 
sovereignty, will not promote the deeper 
interests of Zionism and will, moreover, 
prejudice the interests of the Jews out- 
side of Palestine. In the first place, the 
Jews of to-day are a commercial people 
and Palestine has no commercial oppor- 
tunities to tempt even the ghost of a 
Phoenician. But waive this argument 
and let us look into the agricultural 
aspects of Zionism. True, the Jews 
that established themselves in recent 
years in Palestine have proven to be ex- 
cellent colonists compared with the na- 
tives whether Syrians or Arabs or Jews. 
But what agricultural opportunities does 
Palestine offer, not to a few colonists^ 
but to the Jewish nation that will want 
to settle there? Strictly speaking, Judea 
is the home of the ancestors of the Jews. 
But Judea nowadays does not attract 
them as settlers, and the few Jewish 
colonies have thrived only in places like 
the plain of Sharon and Esdraelon. No 
colonies have been elsewhere successful. 
For outside the rocky wilderness of Ju- 
dea, good only for outlaws and troglo- 
dytes, the barren waste of Moab, the 
salt marshes of the Ghor, the parched 
land of the Negeb, there is in this, "least 
of all lands," but the ancient Phoenician 
coastal plain, the plain of Sharon, begin- 
ning at Gaza and disappearing north of 
Carmel, about a hundred miles long and 
fifteen wide, and Esdraelon and upper 
Galilee that are suitable for any exten- 
sive agricultural project. This "mere 
fringe of verdure on the edge of the 
great desert," this "strip of sown land on 
the borders of the waste," will barely 
support to-day a population of 600,000 
souk; and in most parts of the country 
life is impossible except for nomads who 
wander from place to place and prey 
upon the settled agricultural population. 
Because of the lack of security and pro- 
tection against these Arab raids, people 
dare not cultivate any crops on the bor- 



der of the wilderness, which offers to the 
raiders the only available refuge in times 
of drought. And at other times, in fact; 
for whenever the Bedouin Arabs come 
in contact with a settled agricultural 
population, raids are almost inevitable. 
Excepting upper Galilee and Esdraelon 
and the plain of Sharon, therefore, no- 
where in this stricken and forsaken land 
of the Prophets is there any place at- 
tractive enough for agricultural pursuits 
or suitable for colonisation. 

And this is a condition, whose disad- 
vantages, agricultural and commercial 
for purposes of Jewish settlement, the 
leading Zionists themselves realise. Leo 
Pinsker said, as quoted by Dr. Gottheil 
in his excellent book on the subject, that 
the home of Jews need not be in the 
Holy Land, "but wherever a fitting soil 
can be found for them." It is the God- 
idea and the Bible, he argues, that have 
made Palestine holy, not Jerusalem or 
the Jordan, and these ideas can be car- 
ried by the Jews into any land in which 
they may settle. To their great leader 
Theodor Herzl also, Palestine is but one 
of the various possibilities for Jewish 
settlement as, for instance, any of the 
South American republics. It will be 
recalled, in this connection, that England 
once offered the Zionists a tract of land 
in East Africa. But in the form of 
agreement that was to be entered into 
between the British Government and the 
Jewish Colonial Trust, Ltd., for the 
establishment of a Jewish settlement in 
East Africa, Herzl laid down certain 
conditions upon which alone the scheme 
could be acceptable, chief among which 
was that "the territory has to be suffi- 
ciently extensive to admit an immigra- 
tion of such a character as should be 
eventually a material relief to the pres- 
sure which to-day exists in Eastern 
Jewry." 

That Palestine, or, strictly speaking, 
the four or five thousand square miles 
of cultivated soil therein, is not suffi- 
ciently extensive for the purposes of 
Jewish settlement is realised by Herzl 
himself and other noted Zionists. There 
are still more vital objections to the 



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1 2 The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 



project. Zionism as an agricultural 
community in Palestine will clash with 
the vested interests of the present in- 
habitants, the Mohammedans and the 
Christians. Zionism as a spiritual 
centre of Jewry will reawaken that ter- 
rible and pernicious spirit of religious 
jealousy and prejudice which has been 
for centuries the mara of the people and 
the land. "The idea of the settlement 
of the land of Israel was so closely asso- 
ciated with orthodox tenets," to quote 
again from Dr. Gottheil's book, "that it 
may well be said to be a part of the silent 
creed that usually goes hand in hand 
with official and doctrinal presentment 
of the principles of a religion." There is 
no doubt, therefore, that one of the 
essential features of Zionism is the es- 
tablishment of a state based upon Jew- 
ish orthodoxy and consequently Jewish 
(sectarianism. They would develop re- 
, ligion at the expense of nationality. 
Whereas the Syrians of to-day and the 
up-to-date Mohammedans aspire to 
something higher than sectarianism, are 
abandoning religion as a political issue, 
as a safeguard to nationality, and would, 
in a word, develop a national spirit even 
at the expense of religion. '' In this sense 
then Zionism is reactionary ; for religious 
nationalism, which has been the curse 
of the Eastern Christians, and which is 
at the root of all the past misery and 
sufferings and degradation of the Near 
East people, is gradually losing its in- 
fluence and power. 

And is it not a fact which history 
corroborates and Islam to-day exempli- 
fies, that to introduce religious traditions 
and beliefs into politics is as pernidous 
to religion as to the state? And is it 
not a fact also^a truism really, which 
p nevertheless requires affirmation — that 
nationality is above religion? The 
Syrians and the Arabs themselves. Mo- ^ 
hammedans and Christians, are begin- 
ning to realise this, and the Syrian na- 
tionality of to-morrow will embrace all 
the religious elements and professions of 
Syria and Palestine. The Syrian Jews, ' 
the Syrian Christians, the Syrian Mo- 
hammedans^ will all be the citizens of 



one country, a country that should re- 
main one and indivisible and that will 
yet, and soon let us hope, enjoy the bless- 
ings of a liberal and just government 
where everyone. Christian, Mohamme- 
dan and Jew, will share equally the 
same rights, religious and political, and 
the same equality of freedom and pro- 
tection. And while every people will 
continue to cherish its own traditions, 
and to find its highest spiritual expres- 
sion in its own religion, they will all be 
brought together in the common bond 
and under the all-embracing influence 
of a new-bom national faith. 

Indeed, we have had enough in the 
East of political states based on sec- 
tarian principles, or even on religious 
ideals. In them is the root of all social 
ills^ all political evils and all the re- 
ligious enmities and contentions. We 
have had enough of them — the world 
has had enough of them — and it is high 
time that that stricken land should enjoy 
the blessings of a higher form of gov- 
ernment. Is not Islam a pathetic ex- 

, ample of the utter failure of a theocratic 
state? But even the MohlmfflCdan 
worTd these days is undergoing such 
reforms as will ultimately result in the 
separation of Islam as a religion from 
Islam as a political issue, a political bond. 
It must be remarked also that the Re- 
form Jews advocate a separation between 
religion and nationality ; they find Zion- 
ism too orthodox. But the orthodox 
Jews do not find it sufficiently religious. 
They respond to* the appeal it makes to 
them in the name of the ancient faith, 
but the colonising idea, which it puts 
forth in the name of the ancient home, 
does not seem to be sufficiently appeal 
ing. They object perhaps to the rebuild 
ing of the temple with the revenue 
Wine Associations. 

In either case Zionism in its religious 
aspect is not liberal, progressive; it is 
reactionary. But let it not be supposed 
that in this view of it we should oppose 
the aspirations of the Jews for a spiritual 
and separate nationality, a racial and 

. religious consciousness, which, after all, 
can be accomplished without going back 



11- 



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The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 1 3 






to Palestine. On the contrary, a Zion 
State in Palestine, if it proves to be a 
success, will gradually become too small 

^ for the Jews; and in the process of ex- 
pansion they will find themselves facing 
two alternatives, either of which is 
fraught with danger : they will either 
have to fight the Arabs or assimilate 
their culture as a means of commercial 
and financial exploitation. No one^ not 
even the ultra-Zionist, will suppose that 
it will be possible for the Jews to im- 
pose their own culture upon their 
Syrian and Arab neighbours. They have 
not been able to do this in the past ; they 
will not be able to do it at present or in 
the future. Any attempt in this direc- 

rtion will lead to religious conflicts, and 
will revive the sinister spectre of re- 
ligious bigotry and fanaticism. 

No, Palestine is not the place for the 
establishment of an essentially Jewish, 
a religious state — a theocracy; Palestine 
is not the place where one of the three 
monotheistic religions should wield again 
the sceptre of authority and power. 
Palestine belongs to the Jews, the Chris- 
tians and the Mohammedans, is the 
spiritual heritage of them all. To-day 
the Mohammedans are in the majority; 
and if the Jews should succeed in estab- 
lishing themselves there, the present oc- 
cupants, the Christians and the Moham- 
medans, would be forced to emigrate. 
The Arabs, moreover, would never rest 
until they get back the land. If 
they were pushed back into the desert 
they would become a perpetual menace 
to the Jewish State, which would be 
subject more than ever to continuous 
raids and invasions. And in an armed 1 
conflict between the Arab and the Jew, r 
no one doubts who would succumb. The ^ 
Jews are not a war-like people; com- 
merce and agriculture are the eternal 
wooers of peace and security. And there 
will be no peace and security in that 
stricken and forsaken land if the Zionists 
and the Arabs are to be neighbours. 

Zionism in Palestine would mean 
eventually Arabism in Palestine; in a 
word, another theocracy just as narrow 
and just as bad. And another theocracy 



would mean constant European interven- 
tion, another crusade perhaps, a rever- 
sion, in fact, to the old solution of the 
problem. Why not solve it now and for- 
ever? The world to-day demands and 
expects a better solution than any of 
those of the past. Civilisation demands 
that there shall be no more massacres 
of Maronites by the Druse, of Jews by 
the Christians, of Christians by the 
Mohammedans, of Armenians by the 
Turks. The civilised world wants 
some one to keep the peace in Palestine. 
And Zionism, to be sure, cannot do this 
as long as there are Arabs in the desert. 
For the sake of the Jews themselves, 
therefore, the world should see that 
Zionism is not established in the Holy 
Land. 

Another consideration, which has not 
escaped the Zionists themselves: if the 
Jews are to have a place which they 
can call their home, their nation, their 
kingdom, the Jews in other parts of 
the world, whose financial and com- 
mercial interests are such as not to per- 
mit them to go back to the Land of 
Promise, will be exposed from time to 
time to the dangers of anti-Semitism. 
You have a home now; why do you not 
go back to it? Indeed, it will work 
untold injuries upon the Jews in other 
countries where they will be recognised, 
and with justice, as foreigners, aliens, 
and where they are now enjoying their 
rights to "Life, Liberty and the pursuit 
of Happiness." Moreover, those that 
do not go back to Zion will find them- 
selves hyphenated, so to speak, in their 
adopted countries and their citizenship 
will be questioned. It might be even re- 
pudiated should ever the interests of the 
Zion State clash with the interests of 
the countries in which they live. And 
whenever there is trouble between them 
and their neighbours the Zionists will 
be tempted to utilise their foreign asset 
in seeking to enlist in their favour the 
sympathy and support of the government 
of their American, for instance, or their 
English brethren. The Arabs, too, will 
find plenty of designing European states- 
men to espouse their cause. The result : 



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1 4 The Holy Land : Whose to Have and to Hold 



A constant howl for help from the Holy 
Land. The moral : Keep the Arab and 
the Jew at a safe distance from each 
other. Zionism in Palestine, I repeat, 
will mean eventually Arabism, nay, 
Islam, in Palestine. The new King of 
Hijaz, or his successor, with a united 
Arabia behind him, in spite of England's 
watch-dogs and restriction treaties, will 
march northward and enter, as the 
Khalif Omar, the Holy City. Is it not 
right, wise and just, therefore, to insist 
that no theocracy, Jewish, Mohamme- 
dan or Christian, should be set up again 
in Palestine? Surely the peace of the 
world demands this: the interests of the 
world, the progress of the world, depend, 
in a measure, upon it. And neither a 
successor of King Solomon nor of Omar 
the Righteous nor of Godefroy de Bouil- 
lon do we want again in the Holy 
Land. 

If none of the great European Powers 
should occupy it and if the Zionists 
should not be permitted to establish there 
a Jewish State, who, then, shall be the 
ruler and benign genius of the land? 
It would be a boon to the country and 
to the world if Europe and America, 
in a disinterested and idealistic spirit, 
could give Palestine to-day a man that 
will rightly and justly be a successor to 
the three historic worthies I have named 
— to Solomon, Godefroy and Omar: a 
man that will place the Holy Land on 
the holier ground of liberty, equality and 
progress; a man that will accord the 
Mohammedans, the Christians and the 



Jews equal rights, equal protection and 
equal religious freedom; a great man of 
these times who will not need to play 
one race against another, or one sect 
against another; who will not hold the 
interests of the country subservient to 
the interests of his home government; 
who will have at his command a well- 
organised army to keep peace in the 
land and around it, as well as among 
the Christian sects that still fight over 
the Sepulchre; who will establish a sys- 
tem of education that will have for its 
supreme purpose the welding together 
of the various religious elements in a 
common national bond ; who will render 
safe and attractive the pilgrimage to the 
Holy Place of Christianity and Judaism 
and Islam; who will, in a word, be the 
father in the land of an era of light and 
learning and freedom, of prosperity and 
peace. 

It is not difficult to find such a man 
in England, say, or in America, or in 
France; but he cannot possibly rule the 
country according to these high ideals 
and lofty moral standards, if he is not 
independent, if he is not absolute sover- 
eign of the people and the land. In other 
words, he must hold office, not in the 
name of his government, whose inter- 
ests he will have to maintain uppermost, 
whose foreign policy he will have to up- 
hold and promote, but in the name of 
the people of the country, of the natives 
themselves — the Syrian Christians, the 
Syrian Mohammedans and the Syrian 
Jews. 



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BURKE OF LIMEHOUSE 

BY MILTON BRONNER 



Violent times seem to beget in those 
who stay quietly at home a taste for a 
brutally realistic literature. After the 
abortive Russian revolution of 1905, 
when the Czar crushed the rebels with 
an iron hand and all Russia seemed once 
more sunk in hopeless and helpless de- 
spair, there was an unprecedented pro- 
duction of novels and stories whose 
realism was unusually frank, even ^or 
that country. Strangely enough, it was 
also pornographic. It was as if by mu- 
tual consent of writers and reading 
public they had said, "Very well, if we 
cannot have political freedom we will 
have freedom in our novels. Nay we 
will go beyond freedom. We will have 
license." 

In Great Britain to-day, confronted 
always by the terrible lists of her dead 
and wounded, with signs of mourning 
and war's wreckage on every hand, the 
book that has gone speedily into three 
editions and has already made an Eng- 
lish reputation for its author is not of 
the kind to make sad ones smile and 
anxious ones forget. It is not light and 
airy at all. It is one of the most frankly 
and brutally realistic books that has ap- 
peared in our tongue in a long time. 
Yet it won its audience despite the fact 
that circulating libraries barred it, and 
it has been crowned by the high praise 
of men like Wells and Bennett, them- 
selves masters in the writer's craft. 

Thomas Burke is a man of whom 
little is known. Presumably his Nights 
in Town, a London autobiography, tells 
of his life and adventures in the world- 
city, but the book attracted so little at- 
tention that its revelations — if there 
were any — ^were speedily forgotten. 
Undaunted by this, he produced the 
volume that has given him his present 
standing, Limehouse Nights* 

*Since this article was written, this book 
has been issued in this country under the 



Limehouse is a London region of 
mean shops, low groggeries, humble 
tenements and small cottages near that 
part of the Thames where are situated 
the West and East India docks. In ad- 
dition to the white people who live there, 
and the Malays and Lascars who flock 
from the ships, there is a large perma- 
nent and a considerable transient Chinese 
population. So much is this the case 
that the section is known as Chinatown, 
just as are similar territories in New 
York and San Francisco. 

Burke has not sought to prettify his 
Chinatown. In the main, he has not 
attempted to become sentimental over 
it. He has not donned rose-coloured 
glasses. Whether he is treating of a 
romantic, a tragic, or a comic theme, 
he seeks always to be scrupulously truth- 
ful. In his wanderings in Limehouse 
he most often found Chinese whose 
morals were none too good, English 
brothel-keepers, thieves and scarlet 
women. And he takes these people as 
his dramatis persona. For the most 
part he is realistic in a romantic man- 
ner. There is brutal realism, but it 
appears as if it were wrung from the 
heart of a man who preferred to be a 
poet. On the very first page of his 
book the reader is confronted by this: 

It is a tale of love and lovers that they 
tell in the low-lit Causeway that slinks 
from West India Dock Road to the dark 
Waste of Waters beyond. In Pennyfields, 
too, you may hear it; and I do not doubt 
that it is told in far-away Tai-Ping, in 
Singapore, in Tokio, in Shanghai, and those 
other gay-lamped haunts of wonder whither 
the wandering people of Limehouse go and 
whence they return so casually. It is a 
tale for tears, and should you hear it in 
the lilied tongue of the yellow men, it 
would awaken in you aU your pity. In 

same title by Robert M. McBride and Com- 
pany. — Editor's Note, 



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i6 



Burke of Limehousc 



our bald speech it must, unhappily, lose 
its essential fragrance, that quality that 
will lift an affair of squalor into the loftier 
spheres of passion and invagination, beauty 
and sorrow. It will sound unconvincing, 
a little • • • you know • • • the kind of 
thing that is best forgotten. Perhaps • • • 

There follows a tale of a Chinaman 
and a child; of how the Chinaman 
found her in an unbelievable brothel and 
took her home with him to love and 
worship as a fragile thing apart, some- 
thing too holy to be sullied. The piece 
has its tragic ending — the child is beaten 
to death by her prize-fighter step-father, 
the Chinaman kills himself, and the 
child's murderer dies from the bite of 
a poisonous snake left for him by the 
Chinaman as a "love-gift." 

Gaily deceptive, Burke pens lines like 
these: 

Sweet human hearts — a tale of carnival, 
moon-haunted nights; a tale of the spring- 
tide, of the flower and the leaf ripening to 
fruit: a gossamer thing of dreamy-lanterned 
streets, told by my friend, Tai Ling, of 
West India Dock Road. Its scene is not the 
Hoang Ho or the sun-loved islands of the 
East, but Limehouse. Nevertheless it is a 
fairy tale, because so human. 

What follows is not keyed up to this 
pitch of poesy at all. Instead, it is an 
outrageously frank and comic story of 
how three Chinamen and one white man 
disputed as to which was the father of 
the expected child of Marigold Vassi- 
loff, who, as you may judge, was no 
saint. Once more turn the pages. Burke 
begins : 

Memory is a delicate instrument. Like 
an old musical box, it will lie silent for 
long years; then a mere nothing, a jerk, 
a tremor, will start the spring, and from 
beneath its decent covering of dust it will 
talk to us of forgotten passion and desire. 
Some memories are thus moved at sight of 
a ribbon, a faded violet, a hotel bill; others 
at the sound of a voice or a bar of music, 
or at the bite of a flavour on the palate 
or an arrangement of skies against a well- 
known background. To me return all the 
unhappy, far-off things when I smell the 



sharp odour of a little dirty theatre near 
Blackwall. Then I think upon all those 
essences of life most fragrant and fresh, 
and upon * * * Gina Brentano. 

There ensues a story of how Gina 
developed as a child dancer, how she 
fell, and passed oS the stage, both of the 
theatre and of life. Beware of the 
Greeks bearing gifts. Beware of Burke 
charming you with his highly polished, 
more or less dreamy opening passage. 
It is a lure, a promise not to be kept. 
The poet in him sets his trap for the 
attention of the reader, and, once he is 
caught, certain grim matters are set 
down with no respect for feelings. 
Shocking situations are reported as they 
might be by a court attache — if the 
latter were an artist. The dialogue is 
set down without an attempt to Bowd- 
lerise it. Ugly words, coarse slang, 
meaningful phrases are all put in. One 
reads a Satanic tale of how a man tor- 
tured his child into committing a murder 
he himself was too cowardly to perform 
and then was trapped; or a nightmare 
story of the terrible white parrot which, 
like its master, was a devil incarnate 
and lived to avenge his death ; or a Poe- 
like story of the gorilla and the girl. 

It is a book that, in the main, is 
concerned with the dark phases of life. 
Men commit murder or torture chil- 
dren; women avenge great wrongs by 
arson or by poison; policemen's tools 
hand over criminals to the waiting con- 
stables. All this sounds uninviting 
enough. But such a description does 
not convey the whole truth. The fact 
is that Burke has cast a glamour over 
his pages that prevents his stories from 
being merely studies in the sordid and 
the morbid. He has seen things with 
sharp vision and he has etched them just 
as clearly. But somehow also he makes 
you feel that he has viewed life with 
pity and tenderness and loving compre- 
hension. He has charity for all because 
he tries to understand all. These pup- 
pets of his are for the most part unlovely, 
their lives grimy enough, and yet he 
manages to make one realise there is love- 
liness amid the crime and the squalor. 



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Burke of Limehouse 



•7 



Bayswater may call some of these things 
beastly, but Burke shows how Lime- 
house finds some of these things beauti- 
ful. Again and again the reader is ad- 
jured to be gentle, to be pitiful, and if 
he can bring himself to this frame of 
mind he is apt to see these things as 
Burke sees them. He sees the high 
passion, the sudden deep love, the hero- 
ism amid the ugly and the criminal. He 
separates the human gold from the over- 
plentiful human dross. 

Burke is decidedly a find. Not since 
the days when Kipling burst upon the 
English world has any writer displayed 
more sheer power and driving force. 
When he wills it, he has command of 
fine prose. He has a pea that records 
things as they are. He has the ability 
to seize and hold one*s attention. He 
can spin a yarn. And he has the old 
and invaluable trick of concealing a sur- 
prise in the end of his story. He has 
followed up his success with a slender 
volume of verse, London Lamps, Many 
of these poems celebrate particular 
streets in London, just as Arthur Adams 
and Douglas Goldring have done in 
recent years. There is nothing very 
inspired about these pieces. It is only 
when he sings of his yellow men and 
of Limehouse that he becomes really 
interesting. Indeed, some of these 
pieces sound like a versified appendix 
to Limehouse Nights, 

Yellow man, yellow man, where have you 

been? 
Down the Pacific, where wonders are seen. 
Up the Pacific, so glamourous and gay. 
Where night is of blue, and of silver the 

day. 

Yellow man, yellow man, what did you 

there ? 
I loved twenty maids who were loving and 
fair. 



Their cheeks were of velvet, their kisses 

were fire, 
I looked at them boldly and had my desire. 

Yellow man, yellow man, why do you sigh? 
For flowers that are sweet, and for flowers 

that die. 
For days in fair waters and nights in 

strange lands, 
For faces forgotten and little lost hands. 

There are many things to be seen 
and heard down by the West India 
Dock Road, things that one book of 
prose and one little sheaf of rhymes 
have not exhausted. Burke's books may 
sell and money may come to him, but 
one visions him slipping away from 
Fleet Street and Picadilly and going 
back there where life may be ruder, but 
where likewise it has sharper savour: 

Black man — white man — brown man — yel- 
low man — 
Pennyfields and Poplar and Chinatown 
for me! 
Stately moving cut-throats and many-col- 
oured mysteries, 
Never were such lusty things for London 
lads to see! 

On the evil twilight — rose and star and 
silver — 
Steals a song that long ago in Singapore 
they sang; 
Fragrant of spices, of incense and opium, 
Cinnamon and aconite, the betel and the 
bhang. 

Then get you down to Limehouse, by rig- 
ging, wharf and smokestack. 
Glamour, dirt, and perfume, and dusky 
men and gold; 

For down in lurking Limehouse there's the 
blue moon of the Orient — 

Lamps for young Aladdins, and bowies 
for the bold! 



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WASHINGTON SQUARE 



A FEW PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
BY JAMES L. FORD 



To THE loose methods of speech and 
writing, now unhappily prevalent, are 
due the widespread misapprehensions re- 
garding Washington Square and its con- 
founding in the popular mind with 
Greenwich Village. The last-named lies 
between Houston and Fourteenth Streets 
and Sixth Avenue and the North River. 
The Washington Square region consists 
of the square itself and its immediate 
neighbourhood. 

There is no quarter that holds a more 
honoured place in the annals of the town 
for solidity and eminence in the arts as 
well as in social graces, but of late the 
professional bohemians who infest the 
southern extremity and its immediate 
purlieus have made it almost infamous in 
the minds of the respectable element and 
have even invaded the fine old hostelry 
that lies a block to the north — the hos- 
telry that entertained the Prince of 
Wales in 1861, and is still famous for 
its good cooking. 

The north side of Washington Square 
still retains its old-time atmosphere of 
dignity and worth. Its houses, which 
are all practically alike, were built from 
fortunes accumulated slowly and legiti- 
mately before the Civil War at a time 
when the harbour was white with sails, 
and steam and the Atlantic cable had not 
stripped our great merchant service of all 
its old-time romance and profit. These 
houses are of generous width and depth, 
and their back yards extend to what were 
originally stables, but are now largely 
tenanted by those artists who pride them- 
selves on their picturesque quarters in the 
Washington Square Mews. The Mews 
itself is itierely a lane roughly paved 
with old-fashioned cobblestones, and it is 
difficult for the chance passerby to distin- 
guish between the children of an impres- 



sionist painter and those of a chauffeur, 
for they all play there together. A few 
of these houses on the north side are in 
the hands of their original owners, one 
of whom died there, a few months ago, 
after a continuous residence of fifty- 
seven years. 

The old University building of grey 
stone, which stood on the eastern side of 
the square until a few years ago, has 
sheltered a great many artists and writ- 
ers of genuine distinction. It was here 
that John Winthrop wrote Cecil Dreme, 
and it was from those old, stone portals 
that he went out in 1861 to give his life 
for his country. Robert C. Minor, an 
artist who was not appreciated until he 
was in his grave, occupied his rooms in 
later years. William Henry Hurlbut, 
the editor of the World, and a man of 
brilliant attainments, lived under the 
same roof and entertained men and wo- 
men of the highest distinction. In this 
building Professors Morse and Draper 
took the first photograph of a human 
being. 

The region just south of the square 
was once the most openly disreputable 
quarter of the city, but the abandoned 
classes never succeeded in invading the 
square itself. In time commerce, the 
most potent of all municipal reformers, 
drove out the disreputable resorts and 
rebuilt the streets for the wholesale silk 
trade. 

North of the square lies what is still 
one of the finest sections of New York, 
and one of genuine historic interest. It 
would be impossible to name the many 
families of great social and commercial 
eminence who have pitched their tents 
there. The Tenth Street Studios, still 
standing, have, like the University Build- 
ing, sheltered innumerable painters and 



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Washington Square 



J9 




WASHINGTON SQUARE AND ARCH 



sculptors, and it was here that what was 
always termed the "North River School" 
of art may be said to have had its head- 
quarters. These were the painters who 
made the landscapes in the old Broad- 
way and Fifth Avenue stages as pot- 
boilers, for magazines were few and far 
between in those days and illustrative 
art was in its infancy. In Ninth Street 



between Fifth and Sixth Avenues there 
lived in the year 1837 one of the most 
famous and extraordinary men that the 
world has ever seen. Here in a small 
bedroom Louis Napoleon lived and 
dreamed of the imperial power that he 
knew awaited him in the future. He 
went from this house to Europe to see 
his dying mother, and some years later 



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20 



Washington Square 




THE OLDEST BUILDING ON WASHINGTON SQUARE, STILL STANDING ON THE SOUTH 

SIDE 



this dreamer of West Ninth Street ad- 
dressed a dozen words to the Austrian 
ambassador who had called to pay his 
respects at the beginning of the new 
year, and in one brief sentence set all 
Europe a-tremble with excitement. An- 
other man who also figured later in 
French aflFairs was a constant fre- 
quenter of the square and its nearby re- 
sorts, though I am not able to state au- 



thoritatively that he actually lived there. 
Clemenceau, the French statesman and 
former Prime Minister, was one of the 
famous coterie of bohemians who, during 
the sixties, tried to re-create the kingdom 
of Henri Murger in Pfaff's beer cellar 
situated on Broadway about where the 
Broadway Central Hotel now stands. 
Pfaff's was still the resort of writers 
and artists in my own early days, and 



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Washington Square 



21 




THE BREVOORT HOUSE 



was afterward removed to Twenty- 
fourth Street where it ultimately per- 
ished. 

Thirty-odd years ago the square was 
inhabited by many men and women who 
have since become famous. To mention 
the names of these would be to print an 
almost complete roster of the artistic 
and literary professions of that day. In 
a small house between Ninth and Tenth 
Streets Edwin Abbey and John Parsons 



had their home, and later the Tile Club 
and the Authors* Club held their meet- 
ings there. It was here that the late 
Laurence Hutton was entertained by his 
friends on the eve of his marriage and a 
notable company it was that sat around 
the board. It included John Fiske, Ed- 
win Booth, Mark Twain, H. C. Bun- 
ner, Bram Stoker and others who have 
escaped my memory. 

It is to the south side of the square as 



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Washington Square 








w:^r. 



, jkgl;--:. A y 




===i:r; 



-v^' 



jSiji, 



WASHINGTON SQUARE SOUTH: THE STUDIO QUARTER 



it exists to-day that the whole region 
owes its rather unsavoury name. Here 
the professional bohemians whose fa- 
vourite motto is "share .and share alike," 
and who never have anything to share, 
make night hideous with their unseemly 
revels. The excellent little French res- 
taurants of an elder day have, for the 
most part, disappeared from the nearby 
side streets and in their places are to be 
found such resorts as "Polly^s," "The 
Mad Hatter," "The Samovar" and 



"The Candle-Stick." In these quaint 
effect is aimed at; tallow candles are 
used for light because they are more 
odourous than gas or electricity and pre- 
vent the patrons from seeing what they 
are eating. The number of young wo- 
men who frequent these resorts at all 
hours of the night, singly, in couples or 
in groups^ and without male escort, 
never fails to surprise visiting strangers. 
These are the so-called "bachelor girls" 
celebrated by the Sunday press. Many 



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The Principality of Cantu 



23 



of them really paint or draw or act or 
sing, but a greater number merely pose 
and talk. 

A number of small shops bearing 
names calculated to attract attention and 
dealing largely in "quaint novelties" of a 
kind that are sold in every department 
store have sprung up within recent years 
in or near the square. They are usually 
decorated in some original fashion and 
draw many purchasers from the River- 
side Drive. 

When other means of livelihood fail, 
the professional bohemians organise cos- 



tume balls or "routs," as they call them, 
which not only yield a profit through the 
sale of tickets to those verdant outsiders 
who are always eager to taste the joys 
of bohemia, but also procure for them 
considerable free advertising through the 
printing of their names and even their 
portraits in costume in the daily and 
weekly press. 

It is a far cry from the north of the 
square to the south; from Murger's 
Mimi and Schaunard to the ticket-selling 
poseurs of what they ostentatiously call 
"the quarter." 



THE PRINCIPALITY OF CANTU 



BY CLAIR KENAMORE 



There is one place on the North Amer- 
ican continent where a German reservist 
may be certain of a welcome. That is 
in the romantic domain of Colonel Este- 
ban Cantu, who writes after his name 
"Governor and Military Commander of 
the Northern District of Lower Cali- 
fornia." This is not because Governor 
Cantu is particularly pro-German, but 
because Germans have served him well, 
and because the attitude of his neigh- 
bour to the north is not of great moment 
to him. 

Conditions which obtain in Lower 
California are not duplicated in any 
other place on the globe, to my knowl- 
edge, and the government as it stands 
to-day is a testimonial to Cantu *s shrewd- 
ness and nerve, no less than to his lack 
of morals. For the first time in nearly 
four hundred years Lower California is 
self-supporting. It is a free principality, 
owing no allegiance and paying no 
tribute to any other government whatso- 
ever, and the state, the law, the parlia- 
ment, the judiciary and the military — is 
Cantu. A notable figure is this dapper 
little blond gentleman, who rules a 
province in which he is not popular, 
who commands a makeshift army of 



seventeen hundred men in which he has 
no confidence, who defies his powerful 
neighbour states, and who holds his 
own power by his wits and the gifts of 
fortune. He is an insouciant Ajax, who, 
if he hears, never heeds the mutterings 
of the thunder. The lightning has been 
for years delayed. 

While revolutions were the only busi- 
ness of Mexico, none of the leaders paid 
much attention to Cantu. He was left 
alone, except for an occasional proposal 
of alliance from Villa or Carranza. He 
treated these with contempt. He is of 
the Diaz clan, and such people as the 
revolutionists warring in the Central 
States were far beneath him. Since Car- 
ranza has been established in Mexico 
City he has several times pointed out to 
Cantu the advisability of coming into 
the fold. Cantu has remained unmo\cd. 
Carranza has threatened. Cantu has 
sneered. He has cajoled, and Cantu has 
laughed. Carranza's government has 
not obtained one peso of the revenue 
which Cantu has collected. He has 
been permitted to issue none of the li- 
censes. He grants none of the conces- 
sions. Cantu rides alone. As a pre- 
liminary to a bluff that he was about 



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The Principality of Cantu 




Copyright by H. Bolanos. 
COLONEL ESTEBAN CANTU 



to send troops against Lower Califoria, 
Carranza despatched a customs collector 
with a carload of stamps to take post 
at Mexicali. Citizens of Lower Cali- 
fornia took his money away from him, 
and Cantu gave him railroad fare back 
to Mexico City. The carload of stamps 
was returned by express, collect. That 
was considered a great joke in the South- 
west. 

Cantu 's career, briefly told, is this: 
He was an honour student at the Mex- 



ican Military Academy at Chepultepec, 
and as such, attracted the attention of 
President Diaz, so he was attached to the 
President's staff. After the storm clouds 
of revolution had lowered about the old 
President Cantu was sent to Lower Cali- 
fornia with a new governor, who soon 
departed, leaving Cantu in Command. 
When Diaz was overthrown Cantu vir- 
tually severed his connection with the 
mother country. He was left in com- 
mand of an isolated state, without friends 



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The Principality of Cantu 



25 



or fortune, the hot desert to the south of 
him, the warring mainland of Mexico to 
the east, the cold and unresponsive Pacific 
Ocean to the west and the colder and 
more unresponsive United States to the 
north. 

Did he falter or repine? He did not. 
He set to work and made of his patri- 
mony a garden spot. He gathered about 
him clever, brainy people and made his 
court the last stand of the Cientificos. 
He planted parks, built schools and 
roads and watched the development of 
the biggest gambling house in the world. 
He gave free rein, under a heavy im- 
post, to the opium trade, and there is 
amassed to-day in his territory half a 
million dollars' worth of smoking opium 
waiting for a market. Just now Cantu 
is at Ensenada, where the ocean breezes 
ride in on top of the long rollers from 
the Pacific, but his capital is at Mexicali. 
In midsummer the temperature some- 
times rises as high as 125 degrees at 
Mexicali. One hundred and ten at 
midnight is a matter of moment and im- 
portance to those present. Such a condi- 
tion is not unknown there. 

The thermometer is not the only fever- 
ish thing in that far land, which lies 
below the level of the sea. There is an 
electric condition which causes every- 
body to drive kutomobiles at the fastest, 
to play roulette at the limit, and to 
plant cotton, pick and gin it in an 
excited way. Cantu remains very calm. 
He watches the surge and swirl of his 
subjects with an earnest) appraising eye. 
He notes the tides of trade, and ascer- 
tains whether the most prosperous are 
sufficiently taxed. If they are not, the 
tax is immediately applied. 

Cantu's independence of the central 
Mexican Government is the product of 
his own aversion to the principles of the 
new government, and it is made secure 
by his geographical isolation, an isola- 
tion almost as magnificent as England's. 
The southern portion of the peninsula 
of Lower California is a loyal Carran- 
zista district. One would think that 
the proper way to reach Cantu would be 
to land an army in loyal territory and 



march it north against the upstart gov- 
ernor. But it cannot be done. Lower 
California is about eight hundred miles 
long. It is the mother of the California 
in the United States, and has been ruled 
by white men for three hundred and fifty 
years, but in all that time no wheeled 
vehicle has passed from one end of the 
peninsula to the other. The land prob- 
ably is the most poorly watered in the 
world. For scores of miles on end the 
deep desert sand is the only thing to be 




seen. Cactus and boulders break the 
monotony, and the far rim of desolate 
mountains. It is a land of terror and 
thirst. In these desert wastes are scat- 
tered a few little hidden valleys which 
seem like glimpses of Paradise. They 
are full of waving palm trees and the 
stream of water which gives them life. 
But the valleys are too few and far be- 
tween to make the movement of troops 
through the country possible. 

In 1747 Marie de Borja, Duchess of 
Gandia, lay a-dying. It occurred to her 
that it might be a good idea to do an 
act of piety (the English of the family 
name is Borgia). So she left a large 



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26 



The Principality of Cantu 



sum of money, sixty thousand pesos, I 
believe, to the Jesuits. With this money 
they were to found three missions in the 
three most inaccessible spots on the globe. 
The Jesuits built all three missions in 
the interior of Lower California. The 
whole peninsula is just as wild and for- 
lorn now, as it was then, except for a 
few little towns around the fringe of 
it. Hundreds of miles of the weary 
coast line will show no sign of habita- 
tion. 

In contrast to the deserts of the in- 
terior and the sea-coasts, the country 
about Mexicali presents the greatest 
contrast in this land of contrasts. The 
land there is as rich and as prosperous 
as any in the world, and this condi- 
tion makes another mighty bulwark in 
Cantu*s defence. The condition is pe- 
culiar. The Imperial Valley, famed in 
story, is watered from the Colorado and 
Gik rivers, which drain the higher 
slopes of Colorado, New Mexico and 
Arizona, but the water flows toward 
the Gulf of California, and goes from 
the United States across the border into 
Mexico before it is turned north again 
to do its work of irrigation in the United 
States. The great canals and ditches 
circle Cantu 's little capital city of Mexi- 
cali. All the water goes under Cantu 's 
control before it is used, and he is the 
boss of the water. The American engi- 
neers, who keep the system of supply 
canals in repair, work in Lower Cali- 
fornia only by grace of Cantu. The 
supply of water, which is as the life 
blood in the veins of the valley, is 
Cantu 's to give or withhold. There 
was no more desolate desert in the world 
than the Imperial Valley before the 
water was harnessed. It was a waste 
of sun-baked land, hemmed in by moun- 
tains which converged the rays of the 
sun. The bed of the valley sloped away 
to two hundred and sixty feet below sea 
level. Even the rattlesnakes and taran- 
tulas, the only inhabitants, found diffi- 
culty in sustaining life. Now sixty-five 
thousand people live there. It has big 
towns, with street cars and moving-pic- 
ture shows and chambers of commerce. 



This year the crops will sell for a sum 
equal to the interest on five hundred 
million dollars. 

In the upper, or southern, end of the 
valley, across the line in Lower Cali- 
fornia, the Colorado flows to the sea 
between well-built walls. Cantu could 
blow up the levee on one side and let 
the whole river into the valley, leaving 
the ditches unsupplied ; or he could blow 
up the levee on the other side of the 
river and turn the valley dry again. 
Either would be fatal to the American 
end of the Imperial Valley. These pos- 
sibilities were pointed out to me by 
Cantu's prime minister. That the gov- 
ernor ever would resort to such des- 
perate means, he said, was impossible, 
unthinkable. It could never happen. 
Except, of course, under one conditioa 
That condition was that the United 
States should so far forget itself as to 
permit Carranza to send troops through 
United States territory to move against 
the government of Lower California. 
Californians would not like to see Car- 
ranza troops oust Cantu. I doubt if they 
would meekly permit them to pass through 
California to make war on him. If we 
should allow such a movement of troops 
it must be through the Imperial Valley. 
Carranza would not advance his inter- 
ests, except sentimentally, by taking the 
few towns on the west coast. It would 
never do to let troops, hostile to Cantu, 
enter Lower California by way of Yuma, 
because they would pass over the essen- 
tial and immensely valuable works of 
the irrigation system, the head gates, 
dams and levees that insure the pros- 
perity of the valley. It would be too 
much to expect Carranza soldiers to 
pass over that section and do no damage. 

Now, California from which the 
peninsula depends, is a great state, some- 
what fond of dancing and light wines, 
but with strong ideas along some lines. It 
is greater now than ever, since its vote 
elects presidents. Colonel Cantu saw 
that his free-and-easy country might 
offend its neighbour to the point of in- 
ternational complications, so he thought 
It would be well to have an American 



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The Principality of Cantu 



27 



lawyer. He chose Mr. Isadore Dock- 
weiler, of Los Angeles. Besides being 
a good lawyer, Mr. Dockweiler is the 
Democratic national committeeman 
from California, and generally credited 
with throwing California into the Demo- 
cratic column at the last election. It 
would seem assured that when he makes 
a hurried trip to Washington his client 
to the south of the line will have at least 
a respectful hearing. All the protests 
of the ultra-moral element in California 
against the reprehensible ways of the 
Cantu government have been unavailing 
at Washington. Carranza's requests for 
aid in recovering the rebel state and 
whipping it again into line with the 
mother country have all been denied. 
All the big cotton plantations below the 
line are run by Americans, and the sys- 
tem of taxes and duties is one of the 
most ingenious of Cantu 's creations. In 
spite of this they are prosperous almost 
beyond belief. The Americans do con- 
siderable grumbling, after the manner of 
men heavily taxed, but to a man they are 
strongly pro-Cantu. They will not con- 
sider the idea of changing the security of 
the present corrupt and unauthorised 
government for the moral and upright 
dominion of Carranza, with the accom- 
panying anarchy, irresponsibility and 
weakness. 

It would be profitless to point out all 
the iniquities which flourish under 
Cantu. A few will suffice. At Mexi- 
cali is the Tecolote gambling house, 
proudly proclaimed the largest in the 
world. Fifty games of various kinds 
are running. Each ganie will accommo- 
date from a dozen to twenty players. 
The bar is one hundred and sixty feet 
long. The dance-hall girls come from 
the four quarters of the world. The 
patrons of the place are Americans, Mex- 
icans, Chinese, Japanese, Hindus, Ger- 
mans and Indians. There may be a few 
other breeds, unclassified, for many of 
the ghastly drug users who gather there 
have lost their racial traits. This place 
pays Cantu fifteen thousand dollars a 
month license. Tijuana is the popular 
resort on the western coast. It has a 



race-track, which caters exclusively to 
Americans, and its gambling house has 
more tinsel, but for concentrated wicked- 
ness and vice, Tijuana cannot compare 
with Mexicali. 

Soon after Cantu came into power he 
gave a monopoly to a French citizen of 
Ensenada for the refining of opium. 
The raw opium was brought from India. 
This man flourished greatly, despite 
his heavy taxes, until the smuggling of 
opium into the United States gained 
such proportions that several capable 
American revenue men were sent down 
to end it. They did so, but there is now 
the great store of contraband in Lower 
California ready to be smuggled across. 
In fairness, it should be said that Cantu 
now declares himself to be opposed to 
the drug traffic. 

Smuggling aigrettes is now the only 
traffic with which line officers have con- 
stant trouble. These are bought by 
tourists usually. In the back room of 
the establishment of a Chinese merchant, 
in Mexicali, I was shown what good 
authority declared was the finest collec- 
tion of aigrettes in the world, and I 
was assured by the proprietor that the 
prices were shamefully low. 

If a weak place should appear in 
Colonel Cantu 's military scheme and 
Carranza should discover a way to give 
fight, Cantu would appeal to the United 
States for protection. It is his idea to 
ask the United States to assume a pro- 
tectorate and guardianship over the 
northern district of Lower California 
somewhat similar to that which was 
placed over Cuba, with the eventual ob- 
ject of permitting the district to enter 
the Union as a territory. This sounds 
rather visionary to a staid American, 
but it is only part of a contingent pro- 
gramme to Cantu. 

Lower California has had many a 
bizarre government, but none like to- 
day's. Cortez sent from there pearls 
to the King of Spain which are said still 
to be in the crown. The Jesuits ruled 
as civil governors for more than a cen- 
tury, and the ruins of twenty-five mis- 
sions testify to their ministry. That was 



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28 



Snap-Shots of American Novelists : Dreiser 



the most prosperous period of the penin- 
sula's history. "Nicaragua" Walker, 
the "Grey-eyed Man of Destiny," cap- 
tured the peninsula with a band of 
adventurers from San Francisco, and 
proclaimed it an American state. He 
was driven out. In 191 1 two dreamers, 
Stanley and Bertholt by name, led a band 
of Industrial Workers of the World 
into the territory, captured the govern- 
ment, and declared it a workingman's 
republic. Both were killed after five 
months of power, and their followers, 
the flotsam of the world, floated on. 
Colonel Cantu, who is about thirty- 
five, married the daughter of Frederick 
Datu, a German, and Datu, like a good 
father-in-law, relieves the governor of 



many business cares. In tracing back a 
monopoly, such as for cotton ginning or 
flour milling, you are likely to find that 
the corporation was founded on a con- 
cession granted by the governor to 
Frederick Datu. The governor does not 
look like a Mexican or a soldier or a 
clever ruler, but he fe all three. He 
would have been taken for a German 
travelling in hardware or machinery be- 
fore that species vanished. What his 
end will be is hard to conjecture, but it 
cannot be denied that he has taken the 
material which fell to his hand and 
wrought with it amazingly. He is the 
only survivor of the Diaz element still 
in power. It is hard to believe that he 
is the fittest. 



SNAP-SHOTS OF AMERICAN NOVELISTS 

DREISER 

BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER 

You, at least, have provoked 

Opinion. 

How many, how many. 

Have done more than sneak along 

The groove of tradition ? 

You, at least, have created 

Two women and one man 

Who cannot die. 

How many, how many 

Can preserve their own puny souls 

From daily living death? 



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THE DANGERS OF DEMOCRACY 

BY STEPHEN BERRIEN STANTON 



At a recent dinner of the New York 
Association of Stock Exchange Brokers, 
Mr. Otto H. Kahn remarked "When 
the right of suffrage was thrown open 
to the masses of the people of England, a 
great Englishman said, 'Now we must 
educate our masters/ " That was a ne- 
cessity, however, which the framers of 
our Constitution did not foresee. The 
electorate of Colonial days was homo- 
geneous, whose majority voice was ap- 
proximately the voice of the country's 
best and most intelligent. Moreover it 
was racially fairly uniform, and though 
not all of one stock it was generally 
speaking of the best blood of the lands 
to which it owed origin. To give such a 
people universal suffrage was the nat- 
ural step and one fraught with no ap- 
parent danger. There was not then in 
prospect the epoch-making mechanical in- 
ventions which have brought industrial- 
ism into the world and created the great 
wage-earning classes, possessed of little 
of the community's intelligence or edu- 
cation,' and whidi have led to the loss 
of that sturdy sense of independence on 
the part of the individual characteristic 
of colonial times. There was not then 
in prospect the tidal waves of immigra- 
tion which were to swamp the native 
stock and entirely change the political 
complexion of the people, introducing 
into America the proletariat of Europe. 
How different the framework of our 
government would have been had these 
factors been foreseen can only be sur- 
mised; what qualifications would have 
been attached to the franchise. Suffice it 
to say that the republican principle of 
democracy encounters obstacles to-day 
which were not thought of when it was 
launched, therefore not provided for nor 
safeguarded against, and which unless 
the dangers and the necessities involved 
are recognised, may easily prove its un- 
doing. 



We must indeed educate our mas- 
ters. But how get them to submit to 
education ? Masters are not in the habit 
of thinking they need it, nor of putting 
up with any attempt in that direction 
on the part of the servant. Unless al- 
ready possessed of intelligence and right 
thinking, the ruling majority seldom ac- 
cepts the counsel offered or the meas- 
ures framed by the right thinking few. 
On any specific issue, neither the people 
nor their representatives are inclined to 
brook enlightenment or leadership from 
the better informed. The education can 
therefore seldom be direct; it comes too 
late in regard to questions where judg- 
ment has already been formed. But in- 
directly it is still possible through the 
development, training, broadening, up- 
lifting of the popular mind, so that 
thereafter the people will be qualified 
to pass correct judgment on questions as 
they arise. Efforts to this end are out- 
side the field of politics, and must be 
exerted through the deeper-lying influ- 
ences that affect the consciousness of the 
people. The real control of affairs, 
therefore, the actual guidance of the na- 
tion's destiny, is to be exercised through 
those humanities that mould public opin- 
ion, elevate sentiment and spread ideals. 
The school, the press, the pulpit, the 
home, literature, art — all these become 
the true arena for the reformer ; through 
activities that stimulate the higher life 
of the community rather than in a politi- 
cal career is the opportunity for leader- 
ship found. Official politics deal with 
the will rather than with the welfare 
of the people. Executives that are the 
executants of the majority mind, legisla- 
tures composed of representatives that 
are merely that, can be expected to ac- 
complish little more than the partisan 
and personal wishes of their constituents 
— and they do not disappoint. In a de- 
mocracy, all political evils if traced back 



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The Dangers of Democracy 



far enough find their cause in the quality 
of the electorate. Representation like 
water cannot rise above its source, and 
all too truly we have the government we 
deserve. We have unwise legislation be- 
cause ill-qualified, incompetent legisla- 
tors. We have incompetent legislators 
because of corrupt and uneducated or 
uninformed constituents. No betterment 
is in prospect until the level of voters is 
raised. 

It is obvious, however, that a lump 
may easily get beyond the power of 
leaven. Just as the foreign influx may 
exceed the community's assimilative ca- 
pacity, so may population grow in num- 
bers or deteriorate in quality beyond the 
community's redemptive capacity. Now 
that the flood-gates of the franchise have 
been thrown wide open, they cannot 
again be shut (note, however, the recent 
adoption by Congress of the literacy 
clause of the Immigration Bill, and of 
the literacy test for voters by the New 
York Senate) ; the only hope lies in con- 
trolling the stream higher up. How 
long can we expect our laissez-faire 
policy toward immigration, toward the 
growth and character of the population, 
toward real universal education to con- 
tinue without dragging the community 
down beyond upbuilding? Has not our 
master become a majority which is omi- 
nously near the mob level; is not de- 
mocracy in danger of becoming a 
kakistocracy ? When we contemplate 
the inefficiency in office, the dema- 
gogic subservience of legislatures, the 
intemperance of public opinion, the 
sensationalism of the yellow press, 
the general drift toward abolition 
of constitutional restraints, it can cer- 
tainly no longer be claimed that the ma- 
jority's voice is, as in the early days of 
the republic it approximated, the voice 
of the community's best. Let political 
capacity become and remain a minority 
possession, and the end is in sight. De- 
mocracy may be defined as a fundamen- 
tal trustfulness in nature: instead of a 
belief that "the best is none too good," 
a realisation that "the worst is not so 
bad." But in this reliance upon nat- 



ural forces, civilisation must not forget 
that it has to a certain extent elimi- 
nated nature's checks and safeguards, 
thereby necessitating new measures of 
protection. It must not forget that na- 
ture limited and selected. So long as 
society allows numbers to increase faster 
than material resources and civilising in- 
fluences, imbeciles and other undesirables 
to perpetuate their kind, immigration to 
swamp the national powers of absorp- 
tion, children to reach maturity without 
the training, education and culture neces- 
sary to good citizenship, what hope can 
there be for a justification of the demo- 
cratic faith? 

"Man is a fighting rebel who at every 
forward step lays himself open to the 
liabilities of greater penalties should his 
attack prove unsuccessful," says the au- 
thor of The Social Direction of Human 
Evolution,^ Repeatedly in history has 
the idealism of political optimists 
brought reforms to birth prema- 
turely, thereby involving the world 
in new perils to avert which it has 
been under the necessity of assuming new 
burdens. Where there should have been 
gradual transition, sudden change has 
made doubly difficult of introduction 
though at the same time doubly impera- 
tive the conditions precedent of the re- 
forms. Thus the sweeping adoption of 
universal suffrage, like the precipitate 
emancipation and enfranchisement of the 
Southern negro, came without adequate 
preparation for it — ^without provision for 
its practical working and without safe- 
guard against its dangers. Before adopt- 
ing democracy the equality presupposed 
by it should be made certain ; one should 
not entrust himself to a master until sure 
he has the qualifications as such. Advo- 
cacy of the people's will is always with 
the mental reservation that it be intelli- 
gent and just; when steps are not taken 
to make it so and keep it so, popular gov- 
ernment is bound to be a failure. Com- 
menting on the argument of the historian 
Lecky that in practice democracy is 
necessarily the rule of ignorance, Gid- 
dings in his Elements of Sociology con- 

'Wm. E. Kellicott, 1911. 



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cedes that "the stability of democracy 
thus depends, first, upon the acceptance 
by the many of guidance from those 
whose superiority is real ; secondly, upon 
an unselfish activity on the part of the 
superior few." But in that case, why 
bestow rule upon the majority and not 
rather restrict it to these superior few? 
Once the franchise is given to all, there 
is no longer any salvation but in ensur- 
ing character and intelligence to all. 
Democracies are committed in practice 
to the high ideals which they have in 
theory assumed. 

What then are the practical measures 
that for very self-preservation a democ- 
racy must adopt; that constitute the or- 
ganic law of its existence ? 

First, the equality that is professed 
must be backed up by an equality that 
is actual; political equality must become 
an equality of intelligence and character. 
With manhood suffrage goes manhood 
mentality, or it is a mockery; if we ex- 
pect the ballot to be intelligently used, we 
have to make those who use it intelli- 
gent. It is not enough that we abolish 
illiteracy — a trained intellect must be 
made universal. Every dtizen should be 
capable of forming an intelligent judg- 
ment and bearing his part in an en- 
lightened community. Not until the 
mental and moral advantages enjoyed by 
the few are made possible to the many 
can there be the homogeneous citizenry 
demanded by democrades. In Wood- 
ruff's penetrating phrase,, "the units 
necessary for the future democracy are 
being evolved at the same time as the 
organism itself." Our compulsory edu- 
cation standards need to be raised, ex- 
panded and — enforced. There should be 
equality of opportunity for all, to the 
end that the community may become uni- 
form in quality. Unless there is a level- 
ling up there will be a levelling down; 
privilege is its own nemesis. As the na- 
tion could not endure half slave and 
half free, so can it not endure half quali- 
fied and half disqualified. 

Second, the community may no longer 
disregard the make-up of its member- 
ship; an elementary eugenics, at least, 



must be adopted. How can a nation 
progress that allows the deficient, the 
imbecile, the insane, the criminal not 
only to impose but to perpetuate the bur- 
den of their existence? "It has been the 
perpetual wonder of philosophers from 
Plato onward that men have bred their 
dogs and horses and left any man or 
woman, however vile, free to bear off- 
spring in the next generation of men."^ 
An individualism that, rather than in- 
vade personal affairs or encroach upon 
personal liberty, prefers to see its asy- 
lums filled, its community life endan- 
gered, is past expostulation. It is not the 
purpose of this article to go into any dis- 
cussion of the eugenic question, but the 
following brief reference to statistics 
showing the appalling rate of increase in 
the above classes may not be amiss. Be- 
tween the years 1850- 1904 the inmates 
of prisons in the United States have 
quadrupled in percentage to population, 
and the insane in asylums between 1880- 

1903 more than doubled; the percentage 
of homicides and murders has trebled in 
the past fifteen years (1911). A total 
of three million dependents and defec- 
tives are thus partially itemised by 
Kellicott; insane and feeble-minded, 
two hundred thousand; blind, one hun- 
dred thousand ; deaf, and deaf and dumb, 
one hundred thousand; paupers in insti- 
tutions, eighty thousand, forming less 
than one-half of the whole number in the 
community and "two-thirds of whom 
have children and are also physically or 
mentally deficient"; prisoners, ten thou- 
sand, and "several hundred thousands 
more that should be prisoners" ; juvenile 
delinquents in institutions, twenty-three 
thousand; cared-for in hospitals, dispen- 
saries, and "homes" of various kinds in 

1904 in excess of two millions. The 
English statistics of 1901 show that 
"sixty-five thousand seven hundred idiots 
and lunatics (one-third of the total) 
were legally married and free to multiply 
their kind and worse." All data tell "the 
same story — rapid increase of the unfit, 
defective, insane, criminal ; slow increase, 

^Social Forces in England and America. 
H. G. Wells. 



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The Dangers of Democracy 



even decrease of the fit, normal, and 
gifted stocks. Whetham writes, 'al- 
though this suppression of the best blood 
of the country is a new disease in mod- 
ern Europe, it is an old story in the his- 
tory of nations and has been the pselude 
to the ruin of states and the decline and 
fall of empires/ ** Professor Karl Pear- 
son has pointed out that one-fourth of 
the population produces one-half of the 
next generation; allowing for the un- 
married and for the death rate reduces 
this one-fourth to about twelve per cent. 
"Is there any relation between this super- 
fertility and the possession of desirable 
or undesirable characteristics?" asks 
Kellicott. "We may answer at once — 
there is a distinct and positive relation 
between civic undesirability and high 
fertility." In the opinion of the Super- 
intendent of the Ohio Institution for the 
Feeble-Minded "unless preventive meas- 
ures against the progressive increase of 
the defective classes are adopted, such a 
calamity as the gradual eclipse, slow de- 
cay, and final disintegration of our pres- 
ent form of society and government is 
not only possible, but probable." Pre- 
ventive eugenics alone offer a solution 
of our protean police and prison prob- 
lems; the practice whereof would save 
a community millions in money and end- 
less energy that are now wasted on pro- 
tective and repressive measures, leaving 
those then constructively available. Ac- 
cording to the well-known sociologist 
Saleby/ our whole social salvation lies in 
getting "the right people born and the 
wrong people not born" — regarding the 
latter half of which, at least, there can 
be no dispute. An official of the New 
York State Charities Aid Association 
in an address at Plattsburg has just 
given the numbers in the State hospitals 
for the insane as approximately thirty- 
eight thousand and of the feeble-minded 
as twenty-four thousand (only six 
thousand of whom are provided for), 
adding "So long as mental defec- 
tives are allowed at large to marry 
and produce their kind, we are 

^Parenthood and Race-Culture. By C. W. 
Saleby. 



making sure of a bumper crop of pau- 
pers, defectives, criminals, degenerates, 
and ne*er-do-wells in the generations to 
come," and recommending "more ade- 
quate segregation of the feeble-minded, 
especially women of child-bearing age, 
by enlarging and increasing the number 
of State institutions for their custody, 
care, and training." 

Third, not only in regard to quality 
but in regard to numbers as well must 
a democracy exercise supervision and 
control over population. The industrial 
law of supply and demand is also a so- 
ciological one ; whenever growth of popu- 
lation outstrips means of subsistence or 
opportunity of employment or the gen- 
eral needs and facilities of civilisation, 
there is sure to ensue disorganisation and 
deterioration. One of the most serious 
evils in America is the mania for size 
and for statistical growth, and chiefly so 
because evidence of unmindfulness or 
disregard of the fundamental welfare. 
The superficial advantages, in the way of 
commercial importance or assessable 
values, to be gained through census-in- 
crease, have made our cities indifferent 
to the civic disarray and planlessness, the 
lowered living conditions, the unemploy- 
ment, the lax enforcement of educational 
and cultural standards, the general mal- 
administration of public affairs which are 
consequent thereupon. And this is true 
of the country as a whole. 

Now it is perfectly plain that the sus- 
taining and civilising capacity of a com- 
munity is proportioned to an approxi- 
mately given size of population; the 
community is incapable, at any one time, 
of taking care of, feeding, clothing, 
training, educating, employing more 
than a certain number. To let popu- 
lation increase other than at a 
gradual and orderly rate and as these 
facilities allow, is therefore to disorgan- 
ise the communal life, destroy the homo- 
geneity of the community, lower the 
standards of existence, and give prog- 
ress a set-back all along the line. It is 
only the part of ordinary national econ- 
omy to see that such permissible number 
is not greatly exceeded. Without quan- 



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titative regulation it is impossible to pre- 
serve any qualitative level; the pressure 
of population inevitably lowers that al- 
ready attained and makes any attempt to 
raise it a task of Sisyphus. Every prac- 
tical socialism would require as a first 
step a knowledge of the number with 
which it has to deal ; nor can any scheme 
of wealth-equalisation or permanent 
abolition of poverty be successful except 
upon a numerical basis involving limits. 
Edward Isaacson^ says, "no socialistic 
Utopia which assumes the right of every 
individual to be fed and dothed^ and 
also to bring up a family of more than 
two children, can give a permanent solu- 
tion of the social problem." Here again 
must it be remembered that in removing 
(at least in part) the checks by which 
nature through destruction of the super- 
fluous and unfit limits population, civil- 
isation is bound at its peril to adopt 
means whereby these become unneces- 
sary; must prevent what it has become 
too merciful to destroy; must put into 
operation a real substitute for natural 
selection. The Malthusian doctrine has 
long since put mankind on notice of this 
fact. In the language of Sir Ray Lan- 
caster, "the unregulated increase of the 
population, the indiscriminate, unques^ 
tioning protection of infant life and of 
adult life also — ^without selection or limi- 
tation — must lead to results which can 
only be described as general degenera- 
tion." "Practically in many parts of the 
world already the (Malthusian) limit 
has been approached so closely that it is 
the duty of the individual in many cases 
not to have children, and the duty of 
society to see that he does not."* 

"The relation of democracy to the 
birthrate seems rather far-fetched, but it 
is really so intimate that one depends on 
the other," according to Dr. Charles E. 
Woodruff, author of that remarkable 
book. The Expansion of Races. "With 
the intelligent adaptation of numbers to 
prospects ceases population-pressure, the 
principal cause of war, mass poverty, 
wolfish competition, and class conflict; 

^The Malthusian Limit, 
nbid. 



for in the words of Huxley, *so long as 
unlimited multiplication goes on, no so- 
cial organisation which has ever been 
devised, no fiddle-faddling with the dis- 
tribution of wealth, will deliver society 
from the tendency to be destroyed by the 
reproduction within itself in its intensest 
form of that struggle for existence, the 
limitation of which is the object of so- 
ciety.* Once it seemed as if man's pro- 
pensity to multiply foredoomed the race 
to live ever in the presence of vast, im- 
medicable want and woe. . . . The 
wheel of Ixion, the cup of Tantalus, 
symbolised humanity striving ever by 
labour and ingenuity to relieve itself of 
a painful burden, only to have that bur- 
den inexorably rolled back upon it by its 
own fatal fecundity. The unlooked-for 
promptness with which, under the influ- 
ence of democracy and public education, 
the masses have acquired a sense of re- 
sponsibility in the matter of family, bids 
us look for a time when the spectre of 
over-population, with strife, misery and 
famine in its ghastly train, will be finally 
laid, and society will for the first time 
become master of its destiny."* 

^o cogently is tHe case put by Wells 
in his Social Forces in England and 
America that the passage should here not 
be omitted: "A state whose population 
continues to increase in obedience to un- 
checked instinct can progress only from 
bad to worse. From the view of human 
comfort and happiness, the increase of 
population that occurs at each advance 
of human security is the greatest evil of 
life. The way of nature is for every spe- 
cies to increase nearly to its possible 
maxiinum of numbers, and then to im- 
prove through the pressure of that maxi- 
mum against its limiting conditions by 
the crushing and killing of all the 
feebler individuals. The way of Na- 
ture has also been the way of 
humanity so far. But it is a con- 
ceivable - and possible thing that this 
margin of futile struggling, pain and dis- 
comfort and death might be reduced to 

^Western Civilization and the Birthrate." 
Prof. Edward A. Ross, American Sociologi- 
cal Society, 1906. 



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The Dangers of Democracy 



nearly nothing ... by preventing the 
birth of those who would in the unre- 
stricted interplay of natural forces be 
born to suffer and fail. The method of 
Nature *red in tooth and claw* is to de- 
grade, thwart, torture and kill the weak- 
est and least adapted members of every 
species in existence in each generation, 
and so keep the specific average rising; 
the ideal of a scientific civilisation is to 
prevent those weaklings being born. In 
the civilised state it is now clearly pos- 
sible to make the conditions of life tol- 
erable for every living creature, provided 
the inferiors can be prevented from in- 
creasing and multiplying. But this lat- 
ter condition must be respected." 

The control of the birthrate is thus 
the key to progress. In it Havelock 
Ellis sees "the only available lever for 
raising the level of our race;"^ and of 
its decline among the more civilised com- 
munities Woodruff remarks "instead of 
race suicide, it is race preservation. The 
awful density of populations in large 
cities is difficult to imagine — a density so 
great that three days' interference with 
the streams of food pouring in results 
in tens of thousands of deaths. What 
is the use of over-populating the land this 
way, and then feverishly increasing the 
food supply in a vain effort to stop star- 
vation? . . . Why do we want the 
world's population to increase, if it is 
only to multiply the number in dis- 
tress ?"2 

Tenfold greater becomes the menace 
from over-population by reason of the 
tendency of the birthrate to decrease 
among "good-class" births and to in- 
crease only among "bad-class." Popula- 
tion grows far faster at the bottom than 
at the top. The selective action of the 
birthrate "is not only a selection in favour 
of lower economic and social classes, but 
also very markedly a selection in favour 
of the foreign blood."^ Difficult as it 
may be to suggest any remedy for this 
state of affairs, the necessity of finding 
one is no less apparent. There is in the 

'Problem of Race Regeneration. 

^Expansion of Races. 

^Miss Emily Balch of Wellesley. 



widespread movement for the endow- 
ment of motherhood, with its special en- 
couragement of good-quality births, a 
hint as to how bad-quality births might 
be discouraged through penalisation, and 
the Utopian schemes of Mr. Wells con- 
template measures whereby absolutely ef- 
fective guarantees should be taken to this 
end. These, however, can only be re- 
garded as a temporary expedient until 
the uplifting forces otherwise operative 
in the community shall have eliminated 
from it any whose offspring would be 
unwelcome. The one effective method 
— as well as the easiest and quickest — 
of stopping the present excessive increase 
at the bottom of the social scale is, as 
already emphasised, to see to it that no 
such bottom exists, but that the com- 
munity shall be as nearly as possible 
uniform throughout. To "compulsory 
education and the opportunities which 
are offered at present for intellectual im- 
provement," Professor William B. 
Bailey, of Yale, looks for the solution of 
this problem. Mr. Balfour has recently 
pointed out that the remedy is to be 
found in this gradual movement of social 
reform in the conditions of life. "For 
it is education, sobriety, and some de- 
gree of well-being which lead to the 
control of the size of families, and as it 
is social amelioration which brings this 
result about, it is a result which we may 
view with equanimity."* 

Regarding the theory that pressure of 
population upon means of subsistence is 
necessary as a whip to energy, we may 
dismiss it as a specious slur upon human 
motive. Sociologists of the Benjamin 
Kidd school argue that only through 
over-crowding and the struggle for ex- 
istence can the ability and genius of the 
individual be developed and the advance 
of the race achieved. But this is in 
conflict with the fundamental hypothesis 
of democracy, to wit, that the welfare of 
the many should not be sacrificed to the 
advantage of the few. If the progress 
of mankind were indeed dependent upon 
the degradation of the masses in order 
that the struggle, the competition, might 

^Haveolck Ellis, supra. 



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continue, then would democracy be the 
most absurd and reactionary of political 
systems. Real democracy requires equals 
and the elimination of destructive social 
forces, and works in direct opposition to 
any so-called evolutionary method of 
progress. As to the military strength a' 
nation might gain from excessive popu- 
lation, it is enough to say that not only 
is it doubtful that quantity is stronger 
than quality ("True, food for cannon 
is cheap. But cannon are not cheap. 
In the struggle, a nation which enjoys 
a safe margin from want possesses a de- 
cided advantage** — Bailey) but that, 
war being the antithesis of civilisation, 
the shaping of a community's internal de- 
velopment to meet the requirements of 
war stultifies civilisation itself. The 
argument only furnishes one more proof 
of the irreconcilability of war and prog- 
ress and of the absolute necessity for a 
league of peace as a condition precedent 
to any lasting melioration of mankind. 
It may be mentioned that the selective 
action of war is eugenically the most 
disastrous, as shown by the aftermath of 
the Napoleonic wars. 

Fourth. Intimately connected with 
and involving all three of the foregoing 
problems is that of immigration, the dis- 
tinctively American problem. A stop 
must be put to the stream that is pouring 
into our midst the ignorant, degraded 
hordes of Europe and Asia. Least of all 
can a democracy afford to become mon- 
grel. In the eight years following 1900, 
six million people — one-quarter of the 
total immigration to date — landed on 
our shores, a number sufficient to "re- 
populate all the five older New England 
states as they stand to-day*' and nine- 
teen of the newer states.* Foreign-born 
or of foreign parentage are: in Boston 
seventy per cent, of the population, in 
New York eighty per cent., in Milwau- 
kee eighty-six per cent, (figures of 1908). 
Were we to eliminate these foreigners 
and their children, it has been estimated, 
says Ripley,* that "Chicago with to-day a 
population of over two millions would 

^Wm. Z. Ripley, "Races in the United 
States," Atlantic Monthly, December, 1908. 



dwindle to a city of not much over one 
hundred thousand.** Only fifty-three per 
cent, of our entire population in 1900 
were native whites of native parents; 
of the remainder over thirteen per cent, 
were foreign-born and twelve per cent, 
coloured. In the New York City public 
schools there are some eighty-two na- 
tionalities represented. 

"It is not alone the rapid increase in 
our immigration that merits attention. 
It is also the radical change in its char- 
acter; in the source from whence it 
comes.**' Down to 1875 there had been 
scarcely any immigration except from 
kindred or allied races. Then a great 
change took place. In 1903 more than 
seventy per cent, of the immigrants came 
from Austria-Hungary, Russia and 
Italy. In 1907, out of a million and a 
quarter, about nine hundred thousand 
were from those three countries. "We 
have even tapped the political sinks of 
Europe, and are now drawing large 
numbers of Greeks, Armenians, and Syr- 
ians.'** The influx is chiefly from parts 
of Europe and Asia "where there is 
much less brain than the Aryan possesses 
— men of different breeds, difficult to 
amalgamate with Aryans, who cannot 
understand Aryan democracy."*^ South- 
ern and southeastern Europeans form 
the bulk of our immigration, nationali- 
ties that are "with the exception of the 
South Americans the most mongrelised 
people of the world."' The net result 
has been to produce "a congeries of 
human beings, unparalleled for ethnic 
diversity anywhere on the face of the 
earth.'*^ 

Our culpable inaction in this regard 
has been due in large part to the tradi- 
tional sentiment that America should be 
"an asylum for the oppressed," a senti- 
ment that, says Grant, is "sweeping the 
nation toward a racial abyss.*'* Those 
"who desire that the United States 
should discharge the functions of a 

2. 8. *. Ibid, 

'^Woodruff, supra, 

«Race or Mongrel, Alfred P. Schultz. 

^Ripley, supra, 

^The Passing of the Great Race. 



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The Dangers of Democracy 



world-asylum forget that asylums are 
not governed by their inmates."^ "Why 
not acknowledge at once that our altruis- 
tic desire to help all lower races, even 
if they starve us, is suicidal, unscientific, 
a blunder?" 

But perhaps the gravest question 
raised by this miscellaneous immi- 
gration is that of the resultant mix- 
ture of racial blood. Whatever may be 
poetically said of this country as the 
Melting Pot, the prosaic fact remains 
that the hope to evolve a superior race 
from a conglomeration of races is one 
upon which analogous experience throws 
much doubt. On this point, however, 
there exists among ethnologists a wide 
diversit}' of opinion. "Is the result likely 
to be a superior or an inferior type? 
Will the future American two hundred 
years hence be better or worse, as a 
physical being, because of his mongrel 
origin ?" asks Ripley. "The greatest con- 
fusion of thinking exists on this topic. 
Evidence to support both sides of the 
argument is to be had for the seeking." 
While, on the one hand, he queries 
whether the whole evolutionary hypothe- 
sis does not compel us to think that 
through the variation of type from 
which effective choice by selection re- 
sults, a favourable result will be the out- 
come, on the other hand, he queries 
whether "there may not emerge a physi- 
cal type tending to revert to an ances- 
tral one, older than any of the present 
European varieties. The law seems to 
be well supported elsewhere, that cross- 
ing between highly evolved varieties or 
types tends to bring about reversion to 
the original stock." He regards both, 
however, as unsettled, and looks to the 
future to decide. In a chapter entitled 
"The Mingling Place of Races,"^ Gid- 
dings, after stating that in North and 
South America the population produced 
"will be a hybrid of elements more di- 
verse than have hitherto been com- 
bined," remarks that "generations far in 
the future will know, what it is impos- 

^Mayo Smith. 

2Thc Western Hemisphere in the World 
of To-morrow. 



siblc for us to know or with much con- 
fidence predict, whether the qualities of 
such a race will be on the whole in- 
ferior or all in all superior to the quali- 
ties of the more homogeneous stocks that 
have bred in the world hitherto." 

One writer goes so far as to say that 
"race-blending produces a type superior 
in fertility, utility and cultural worth to 
one or both of the parent stock."' But 
the general consensus is' to the contrary. 
"The available evidence rather strongly 
supports the presumption that hybrids 
produced by the crossing of varieties 
much alike are vigourous, adaptive and 
competent. Quite different apparently 
are hybrids produced by the crossing of 
widely dissimilar varieties or races."* 
Likewise, the testimony of Schultz that 
"immigrants are of value to a country 
if the immigrants are of a race akin to 
that of the inhabitants^ and if their num- 
ber is not greater than can be absorbed." 
But that "the attempts at creating per- 
fect man, or *The American' by a fu- 
sion of all human beings is similar to 
the attempt at creating the perfect dog 
by a fusion of all canine races. Every 
animal breeder knows that this cannot 
be done." Unhesitating was the reply 
of Herbert Spencer, when questioned by 
Baron Kaneko as to the intermarriage of 
foreigners and Japanese which he diar- 
acterised as one of the most difficult prob- 
lems — "There is no difficulty at all. It 
should be positively forbidden. It is not 
at root a question of social philosophy. 
It is at root a question of biology. There 
is abundant proof, alike furnished by the 
intermarriage of human races and by the 
interbreeding of animals, that when the 
varieties mingled diverge beyond a cer- 
tain slight degree the result is inevitably 
a bad one in the long run." "Let any- 
one who doubts the evils of the mixture 
of races and is inclined from mistaken 
philanthropy to break down all barriers 
between them, come to Brazil," wrote 
Agassiz. "He cannot deny the deterio- 
ration consequent upon an amalgama- 
tion of races." The history of civilisa- 

^The Effect of Racial Miscegenation, Earl. 
^Giddings, supra. 



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The Dangers of Democracy 



37 



tion shows that racial stocks have never 
been mixed with profit, is the categorical 
statement of President Eliot in the mat- 
ter. 

In any events the loss of the Anglo- 
Saxon ascendency through this foreign 
influx is clearly foreshadowed. Statis- 
tics show that immigration has not so 
much augmented the population as re- 
placed therein the original Anglo-Saxon 
element; that, had there been no immi- 
gration at all since the early part of last 
century and had the native stock in- 
creased at its former rate, its descendants 
would now be equal in number to the 
total population to-day. "If the Melt- 
ing Pot is allowed to boil without con- 
trol, and we continue to blind ourselves 
to all 'distinctions of race, creed, and 
colour,' the type of native American of 
Colonial descent will become as extinct 
as the Athenian of the age of Pericles, 
and the Viking of the days of RoUo."^ 
"Racial heterogeneity due to the direct 
influx of foreigners in large numbers, is 
aggravated by their relatively high rate 
of reproduction after arrival. The dan- 
ger with us lies in the fact that the low 
and declining birthrate is primarily con- 
fined to the Anglo-Saxon contingent/' 

^Passing of the Great Race, supra. 



says Ripley. "And yet, after all," he 
concludes, in a burst of optimism with 
which we may fittingly end this discus- 
sion, "is the word Manger* well consid- 
ered for use in this connection ? Encom- 
passing these racial phenomena with the 
wide, sweeping vision of a Darwin, Hux- 
ley, or Wallace, dare we deny an ulti- 
mate unity of origin to all the peoples 
of Europe?" The Anglo-Saxon's bur- 
den is "so to nourish, uplift, and inspire 
all these immigrant peoples of Europe 
that in due course of time, even if the 
Anglo-Saxon stock be physically inun- 
dated by the engulfing flood, the torch 
of its civilisation and ideals may still 
continue to illuminate the way." 

From the foregoing review of the dan- 
gers threatening democracy the necessity 
of measures along the suggested lines 
will be apparent. Through their adop- 
tion, it is submitted that the initial mis- 
takes of democracy may be retrieved, its 
safety and progress assured; that unless 
and until they are adopted, however, 
there is little hope for improvement in 
the body politic but, on the contrary, 
ground for misgiving as to the outcome 
of that great democratic experiment in 
which we are embarked and upon which 
the attention of all nations is focussed. 



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AMERICAN PAINTING 

BY CHARLES L. BUCHANAN 



Perhaps the most valuable and unques- 
tionably the rarest of mortal faculties is 
the instinctive, instantaneous and occult 
ability to detect and to appreciate the 
essential gist of things. To apprehend 
from the thousand and more deceptive, 
contradictory and inconsequential indica- 
tions the significant indication is a knack 
possessed by about one human being out 
of every half million. When all is said 
and done, this supreme acuteness of per- 
ception is the animating component of all 
vital criticism (which remains at best 
mostly a felicitous and inspired hinting), 
and compared to the clairvoyant accu- 
racy of this kind of second sight, so to 
speak, the most profound demonstration 
of a literal nature appears a mere futile 
waste of effort. A dominant attribute 
of genius, it is warred against persistently 
and vehemently by collective stupidity. 
Collective stupidity hates and fears it be- 
cause the possessing it makes for power. 
It is inarticulate. It cannot explain the 
unconscious process by which it reaches 
its conclusions and convictions. It is a 
blind, unreasoning bump of locality. If 
you look for a manifestation of it in 
Wall Street, you find it buying Steel 
Common at twenty-two when the com- 
munity in general is buying government 
bonds. In the art world it buys Corots 
at fifty dollars apiece. When the rank 
and file have recognised Corot's merits, 
and conventional competition is boosting 
his prices to unheard of heights, it turns 
its attention to Monet, Manet, Degas, 
Pissarro. In this country, Mr. Thomas 
B. Clarke conclusively demonstrated his 
possession of this superlative prescience 
when he stocked his house from cellar 
to garret with the paintings of one 
George Inness, paintings accumulated at 
an average price, I believe, of anywhere 
from two hundred and fifty to three 
hundred dollars apiece. 



Irrelevant as these few remarks may 
at first sight appear, I am, nevertheless, 
compelled to urge them upon the atten- 
tion of the reader. I am trying to throw 
into sharp and unmistakable relief the 
capacity of accurate and original discern- 
ment as opposed. to the average poverty 
of imagination and lack of inspirational 
insight. It is this latter condition, ap- 
parently inherent in the scheme of things, 
that must be appreciated if we are to un- 
derstand and to combat the abysmal and 
incredible short-sightedness that we en- 
counter in any consideration of American 
painting. I confess I am at times almost 
discouraged at the enormous amount of 
obtuseness and perverted preconception 
that obstructs and obscures a clear and 
comprehensive revelation of this subject. 
Not only must the critical faculty exert 
itself in its accustomed task of discrimi- 
nation, but the press agent must justify 
the critic's efforts by first proclaiming 
and demonstrating the fact that such a 
thing as American painting really exists. 
It does not exist for eight out of every 
ten persons. It may have existed once 
or it may be going to exist in some mi- 
raculous and problematical future, but 
the possibility that it is right bang in 
front of them now never by any chance 
enters their heads. The duck takes to 
water no more inevitably than the human 
mind takes to fallacy; but in the matter 
of American painting it is more than 
fallacy that we encounter, it is sheer, 
inexplicable ignorance. Persons whose 
one and only distinguishing characteris- 
tic appears to be a total unreceptiveness 
to what is going on directly under their 
very noses are allowed to write about the 
conditions of art in this country. Ap- 
parently they know absolutely nothing 
about the conditions of art in this coun- 
try. They are either congenitally un- 
sympathetic to the point of view of 



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American Paintin 



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39 



American painting — therefore obviously 
unable to accord it an equitable consid- 
eration — or they are completely out of 
touch with the concrete and demon- 
strable trend of things. I say concrete 
and demonstrable advisedly. Whether 
for good or ill, the physical and 
external aspects of the art of paint- 
ing are almost inextricably woven into 
the question of an intrinsic artis- 
tic merit, and in recording them 
one is merely dealing with the im- 
personal and unprejudiced matter of 
statistics. There may properly exist a 
difference of opinion over the abstract 
question of aesthetic merit. Later, when 
I shall indulge a few estimates of my own 
regarding the individual significance of 
certain American painters, I shall accept 
the possibility that my preferences may 
be wrong and that yours may be right. 
But there must be a conmion meeting 
ground even for the widest subsequent 
disagreements, and this meeting ground 
can be none other than a mutual recog- 
nition of existing actualities. I would 
put the following questions to the pro- 
fessional disparagers of American paint- 
ing: Are you acquainted with the con- 
ditions about you? Why have you ig- 
nored the consistent and unmistak- 
able significance of the American auc- 
tion-room records of the last ten years? 
Have you even so much as followed 
them? Why do you suppose that houses 
of fundamental foreign affiliations like 
Knoedler and Company and Scott and 
Fowles are considering it advisable to 
advertise their participation in the han- 
dling of American paintings? You do 
not suppose that they are doing it for 
love, do you? Do you know or care a 
row of beans about any of these things, 
or arc you concerned merely in main- 
taining your idiosyncrasies of personal 
prejudice and inclination? 

It is not my habit to speak disparag- 
ingly of the writings of others, but I 
cannot resist -using as an illustration, a 
sort of text, so to speak, an article that 
very recently appeared in one of the most 
prodigal of our popular magazines. The 
article was really pre-eminent for the 



consistency of the misinformation that 
trickled through it. It was one of those 
kinds of articles that make a facile ap- 
peal by utilising the line of least resist- 
ance. Human beings readily assimilate 
the sort of thing they have been hearing 
for years; offer them a new point of view 
and you come perilously close to offend- 
ing them. In this case the line of least 
resistance consisted in calling attention to 
the lack of an artistic atmosphere in this 
country, the inability of the native 
painter to make a living, the fact that 
there was no American painting and 
never would be under the circumstances, 
the fact that we had no patrons of con- 
temporary native talent, and so on and 
so on. Well, after we have satisfied 
ourselves that we are really awake and 
have not dreamed this remarkable state- 
ment, we ask ourselves, seriously and a lit- 
tle bewilderedly, where this person could 
have come from who writes on American 
painting and yet has apparently not pro- 
gressed beyond the point of view of a 
quarter of a century ago. An anecdote 
is included of a Frenchwoman who pur- 
chased a painting by Claude Monet for 
two hundred francs when that painter 
was struggling obscurely through the 
early stages of his career. Speculation 
being the most alluring and popular side 
of art, we have heard this sort of thing 
from time immemorial. But the same 
thing has repeatedly taken place in 
the art of this country. Our writer 
instances this lady as an example of a 
class of dilletanti indispensable to the 
encouraging and maintaining of each on- 
coming generation of artists. The gen- 
tleman's contentions, proclaimed with 
the royal irresponsibility of utter igno- 
rance, touch their high-water mark in 
the monstrous and incredible statement 
that we have no such class in this coun- 
try, that we have only collectors of as- 
sured and redoubtable works of art, that, 
in other words, we have no supporters of 
contemporary native talent. 

One cannot help wondering what Mr. 
Thomas B. Clarke, Mr. William Evans, 
the late Mr. George Hearn, the famous 
Mr. Freer of Detroit, Mr. Burton 



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40 



American Painting 



Mansfield of New Haven, Dr. Alex- 
ander Humphries, Mr. Alexander Hud- 
nut and fifty other collectors of Ameri- 
can art would think of this remarkable 
statement. No supporters of contempo- 
rary American painting! What kind 
of American painting? Could our friend 
have had in mind those innumerable 
young gentlemen of extreme and exotic 
predilections whose acutest reactions to 
art are secured over a cafe table? Our 
friend may very possibly have mistaken 
some frustrated e£Fort of Macdougal 
Alley for the conditions obtaining in the 
authentic and nation-wide activities of 
American painting. Obviously, his in- 
telligence and hb sensibilities have not 
been quickened into an ability to distin- 
guish between those kinds of American 
painting that are substantial and perma- 
nent, and those kinds that are transient 
and inconsequential. That dominant 
continuity of purpose and achievement, 
that is as clearly discernible in our paint- 
ing as the backbone in the human 
anatomy, does not exist for our friend 
who writes as though this country had 
never known an Inness, a Winslow 
Homer, a Blakelock, an Alden Weir, a 
J. Francis Murphy among its painters, 
and a Freer, a Heam, an Evans and so 
on among its collectors. As a matter 
of cold fact, it is open to question 
whether any nation — even the French na- 
tion — has shown a more inspired ca- 
pacity for appraising the future possi- 
bilities of its native talent than this na- 
tion has shown. What shall our friend 
say of Mr, Freer's anticipation of Whis- 
tler's prestige at a time when Whistler's 
reputation was founded on idiosyncrasy 
rather than on intrinsic merit? What 
shall he say of the score of Dwight W. 
Tryons owned by Mr. Freer, of the score 
of J. Francis Murphys owned by Mr. 
Hudnut? What shall he say of the 
original impulse given to a native art by 
the extraordinary perspicacity of the 
aforementioned Mr. Thomas B. Clarke? 
It has been estimated that Mr. Clarke 
possessed, at one time, over a hundred 
pictures by George Inness, pictures pur- 
chased direct from the artist. If this is 



to any degree an exaggeration, it is so 
slight a one that it may well pass for 
the truth. If our friend will go into the 
house of William Macbeth, dealer in 
American paintings, he can very prob- 
ably secure a list of a half hundred 
names of persons in the city of New 
York alone who are acquiring, and have 
been acquiring for years back, paintings 
by American artists at prices ranging 
from four or five thousand dollars down 
to two hundred and fifty dollars or less. 
Supporters of American painting 1 Mar- 
ket for American painting! I should not 
be surprised if there were two collectors 
of American painting to every one col- 
lector of foreign painting. How else 
shall we explain the obvious prosperity 
of the house of William Macbeth, a 
house that has dealt exclusively in paint- 
ings by American artists? How else 
shall we explain the fact that a hundred 
or two hundred American artists who 
need to sell, at the very least, a dozen 
paintings a year in order to make a liv- 
ing, manage to make a living? Evi- 
dently there is a market for American 
paintings. 

I emphasise the following facts: For 
a score or more of years now we have 
seen a certain class of American painting 
consistently increase in market value, 
artistic prestige and popular appeal. I 
wish to underline the fact that this state- 
ment is not an expression of an individ- 
ual opinion. Whatever my own per- 
sonal feelings may be as regards the sub- 
ject of American painting (for that mat- 
ter, whatever yours may be), I merely 
say : Here are the records, the cold, con- 
crete, impersonal, ascertainable records. 
And these records demonstrate beyond 
the faintest shadow of a doubt that there 
is such a thing as American painting, 
that a certain distinct trend is observ- 
able, and that this trend is accorded by 
the American people the kind of recog- 
nition and patronage that makes for per- 
manence. A quarter of a century's 
steady, sure, natural growth has secured 
the position of Inness and Winslow 
Homer. Veritable giants, both of them, 
we do not hesitate now to ask whether 



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American Painting 



41 



the kind of painting they represent has 
ever been more successfully exploited. 
Allied to them in breadth and nobility of 
vision, although falling indubitably short 
of them in technical facility and beauty 
of handling, we have Martin, Wyant 
and Fuller. In our immediate time the 
tradition of these men has been exqui- 
sitely ramified by the notable activities 
of Hassam and Weir, the fluent if some- 
what mellifluous charm of Tryon and 
the really remarkable subtility of 
Murphy. There can be not the slight- 
est doubt that the increasing popularity 
of the American painter has been the 
feature of essential significance in the 
auction-room records of recent years. 
A price brought by a certain picture, in- 
teresting though it may be, cannot be ac- 
cepted as conclusive. In the present in- 
stance, however, the thing we simply 
cannot get away from is the slow^ sure, 
inevitable growth of a substantial appre- 
ciation in the market values of the best 
kind of American paintings. During 
the last year a Winslow Homer sold for 
twenty-seven thousand dollars, an Inness 
for forty thousand dollars. Among liv- 
ing painters J. Francis Murphy led with 
his "November Greys" bought by Mr. 
Palmer, of New London, for seven thou- 
sand five hundred dollars. In the fa- 
mous Alexander Humphries' sale (the 
conspicuous feature of the last winter's 
art activities). Murphy's "Approach to 
an Old Farm," for which Dr. Hum- 
phries had originally paid nine hundred 
and some odd dollars, sold for five thou- 
sand dollars. The famous Fuller, "Girl 
with Turkeys," bought by Dr. Hum- 
phries for two thousand five hundred 
dollars, sold in this sale for fifteen thou- 
sand six hundred dollars, l^hese prices 
are not sporadic. They are not the work 
of a clique. They are not the result of 
a spurious manipulation on the part of 
one house or a group of houses. They 
have simply just happened. Twenty 
years ago Martin, Inness, Wyant, Homer 
and Blakelock could have been pur- 
chased for two hundred dollars up 
to a thousand. A half dozen years ago 
Murphy could have been bought for one- 



third the price he consistently selk at 
to-day. His "Misty Morning," pur- 
chased in 19 1 1 for eight hundred and 
fifty dollars, sold in 19 17 for three thou- 
sand five hundred dollars, a profit of 
over two hundred per cent, for the pur- 
chaser. And before we take leave of this 
rather barren matter of statistics, let it 
be emphatically recognised that Ameri- 
can painting has done what it has done 
in the face of an almost overwhelming 
foreign competition, the prestige of con- 
tinental precedent, the prejudice of stu- 
pidity or dishonesty and the obtuseness 
of critic and press. There has been no 
press agent working for the American 
painter in this country; the press agent- 
ing has all been in the favour of the 
foreign goods, counterfeit or legitimate, 
that have been literally dumped into this 
country from abroad for the last fifty 
years. If American painting has done 
what it has done under conditions of so 
adverse a nature, we may safely assume 
that it possesses an inherent strength of 
unquestionable significance. 

Now how shall we reconcile these in- 
dubitable and demonstrable realities with 
the vast amount of a seemingly ineradi- 
cable prejudice, ignorance and extremity 
of opinion that we encounter among the 
younger set of painters and critics? 
Perhaps the following few sugges- 
tions may be not altogether imperti- 
nent: 

By the very nature of the case, Amer- 
ica has always been a kind of enormous 
receptacle for the art of Europe. A 
young land, loosely cultured, stupen- 
dously wealthy, it has been looked upon, 
consciously or otherwise, as a legitimate 
prey by the salesmen of exotic wares. 
Now it is perfectly obvious that, in the 
beginning, whatever art we had must, of 
necessity, be imported. We were able to 
pay any price for art. There was no 
limit. Art values rose to such exorbi- 
tant heights that Europe simply could 
not or would not compete with us. For- 
eign art dealers concentrated their at- 
tention on this country. Branch offices 
were opened. Corots, Daubignys, Diazs 
and so on ad infinitum came pouring 



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42 



American Painting 



into this country. Then we had the 
Dutch landscape men, Israels, Mauve, 
the Maris brothers. Then came Monet, 
Manet, Pissarro, Degas, and so on and 
so on. 

Now it should be recognised beyond 
the shadow of a dispute that in acquiring 
the works of foreign painters the Ameri- 
can millionaire is acting quite within his 
rights. If an extraordinary Hals, Rem- 
brandt, Turner, Corot and so forth is 
on the market, there is no reason why 
Mr. Frick or Mr. William Clarke 
should not buy it. The trouble is that 
in the beginning this overwhelming flood 
of foreign art swept the critical equilib- 
rium of this country clear off its feet. 
Instead of our native painting being ac- 
cepted and judged impartially and dis- 
passionately, it was either completely 
ignored by the class of persons that ought 
to have known better, or fatuously and 
indiscriminately patronised by a class of 
persons that knew absolutely nothing. 
To this day — although conditions have 
materially improved — the outstanding 
characteristic of artistic activity in this 
country remains the lack of unpreju- 
diced perceptions and appraisals on the 
part of contemporary discrimination. A 
publicity and emphasis that might better 
be accorded any one of a score of our 
men is too often accorded to infirm 
Whistlers, Monets of feeble quality, in- 
different Barbizons, and so on. Our 
reporters of painting — too seldom do 
they merit the once honourable ap- 
pellation, critic — are lacking that poise 
of perception which instantaneously and 
inevitably distinguishes between a spu- 
rious originality and a genuine progress, 
a transient prettiness and a valid beauty. 
They are so fearful lest they be con- 
sidered parochial that they go to the 
extreme of a persistent preoccupation 
with alien activity and excess. They 
have not achieved an indispensable neu- 
trality between the sentimental claims 
of a local talent and the fallacious lure 
of exotic prestige, the stultifying influ- 
ence of precedent and the illusion of 
modernity. Of course exceptions must 
be made. Reviewing the exhibition at 



the Carnegie Institute some years ago, 
the brilliant and fearless art critic of 
Town Topics (yes, I said Town Topics) 
had this to say of Murphy's "Brow of 
the Knoll," a picture now owned by 
Mr. Alexander Hudnut: "But even 
contemporary French and English land- 
scape fails to compete with the kind of 
work J. Francis Murphy is doing." 
Honourable mention should also be 
made of the efforts of Mr. Caffin, Mr. 
Royal Cortissoz of the New York Tri- 
bune, a man of wholesome common sense, 
nimble wit and gracious susceptibility, 
and Mr. Duncan Phillips, cultured and 
disciplined aristocrat of aesthetics. I 
advance and recommend the point of 
view of these gentlemen not because 
their estimates of individual merit agree 
with mine (as a matter of fact, I de- 
plore Mr. Caffin 's wholesale endorse- 
ment of Tryon, and Mr. Cortissoz*s 
protuberant predilection for Alden 
Weir), but merely because they are 
aware of conditions about them and be- 
cause they respond sympathetically and 
intelligently to these conditions. Criti- 
cism has never sold pictures to that 
legendary character, the bloated bond- 
holder, but it can and should induce a 
favourable and intelligent receptivity on 
the part of the public That is all one 
can ask of it. And yet, curiously 
enough, if the American painter need 
no longer die in order to make a living, 
thanks are due to the sagacity of the 
American business man and to the com- 
mon sense of the American people. The 
Thomas B. Clarke sale of American 
pictures, held in New York City Feb- 
ruary 14, 15, 16 and 17, 1899, directed 
the attention of the American people to 
the fact that pictures were being pro- 
duced in this country that were not 
only selling for real money, but were 
bringing, proportionately, the kind of 
prices that Barbizons were bringing. A 
buying movement set in; the future of 
American painting was secured. In 
these days when the contemporary 
painter — Dewing, Tryon, Weir, Mur- 
phy, Dessar, Dearth — asks thousands of 
dollars for a painting, and, what is 



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American Painting 



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more, gets it, it is sad to think that 
Martin, Wyant, Robinson and Twacht- 
man were fortunate if they could dispose 
of their paintings at all, and that Blake- 
lock, undernourished and harassed be- 
yond endurance, was consigned to an 
asylum for the insane. This, however, 
is one of art's eternal platitudes, a 
platitude more common perhaps to 
painting than to any other of the arts. 
Unfortunately, while all these devel- 
opments were taking place, young 
America, identifying art with a smok- 
ing jacket and a bow tie, abandoned the 
frugal and necessitous isolation of its 
homeland to seek its fortune in the in- 
spiring environment of continental aes- 
thetics. It was assumed that one could 
express one's self in Paris more easily 
than in Perth Amboy. Of course there 
was something to this, but not every- 
thing. So it happened that during the 
time George Inness was putting the 
soul of this country on canvas, and Wins- 
low Homer was absorbing the rugged, 
stark, spray-spattered spirit of the Maine 
Coast, and Wyant and Murphy were 
absorbing the spirit of the Catskills, our 
young men were absorbing the spirit of 
Montmartre. These young men were 
painting very much like other young 
men. They gathered together in pre- 
cious and exclusive conclave. They be- 
came active partisans of "movements." 
They learned how to do it very much 
as the other fellows did, but in gain- 
ing a cosmopolitan facility they lost their 
aesthetic soul. There can be absolutely 
no question over the fact that some- 
times they justified themselves by im- 
proving upon their models. Our Mr. 
Childe Hassam, for example, is a hun- 
dred times a stronger painter than Mr. 
Claude Monet. Unfortunately, the 
spirit back of the work of these men has 
lost something of what one might call 
an original integrity. In a word, it is 
not an indispensable point of view. Un- 
fortunately again, it is too often this 
sort of thing that foreign critics see 
when they come here. They do not see 
Fuller's "Girl with Turkeys," Inness' 
"Tenafly Oaks" or "Midsummer Foli- 



age," Murphy's "Brow of the Knoll" 
or "Upland Pastures, Morning," that 
noble, luminous apotheosis of homely, 
naked, native soil owned by Mr. Adolph 
Lewesohn. As for our younger men, 
both painters and critics of painting, I 
repeat that their reaction to the spirit 
of our native atmosphere has been per- 
haps irremediably impaired and adulter- 
ated by influences fictitiously and, I dare 
add, cheaply ultra. They have facts to 
their finger tips on Matisse, Cezanne, 
Van Gogh, Gauguin, but they know next 
to nothing about Weir, Tryon, Murphy, 
Wyant, Inness, Homer, Martin, Blake- 
lock. They plead for a national music 
and ignore a national painting. They 
do not realise that an authentic aestheti- 
cism reveals itself through its ability 
to recognise and appraise, each for their 
individual inherent worth, things widely, 
even totally, dissimilar. A supreme ca- 
pacity for the appreciation of "Tristan" 
need not preclude an enjoyment of 
"Butterfly"; one may yield upon occa- 
sions to the hypnotic ecstasy of Debussy's 
harmonic system, and yet retain a vigour- 
ous response to the rugged, primitive 
energy, humour and pathos of a 
folk-song. But our younger set holds 
a fine scorn for the kind of painter 
that I have endorsed in these pages. 
Apparently, said younger set is unaware 
of or indifferent to the fact that for 
a quarter of a century now the pictures 
painted by the American painter have 
been steadily increasing in value, and 
that a steady accumulation of these pic- 
tures by collectors and museums scat- 
tered throughout the country is in prog- 
ress. Why should our professional pro- 
gressives, our chronic malcontents, re- 
act favourably to a wistful, rural, senti- 
mental and spiritual point of view 
that, however much it may reflect 
the essential gist and pith of this 
country's innate identity, yet re- 
mains incomprehensible to their complex 
and supersophisticated organisms? We 
may feel that a Murphy and a Wyant, 
with their affectionate response to the 
arid pathos of naked and isolated areas, 
are the equivalent to a verse of Burns or 



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44 



American Painting 



a folk-song; our friends who are out of 
touch with the stark humanity, the 
frank, sweet winds and wood odours that 
permeate these pictures, fail to see that 
a characteristic American spirit has been 
perceived and permanently recorded. 
Who of them could recognise, for ex- 
ample, the chill, chaste, reticent New 
England spirit that Mr. Alden Weir 
places so consummately upon canvas? 
Why should they recognise a thing that 
they have not felt? Art is not alto- 
gether — as so many would have us 
think — 3, detached, impersonal thing; at 
its greatest it is experience miraculously 
welded into patterns so sheerly beautiful 
that we should enjoy them if for noth- 
ing more than the beauty, and quite re- 
gardless of the significance of their con- 
tents. But if we would receive the full 
import of the work of art, we must be 
in a thorough sympathy with the actu- 
ating spirit back of it. Here is one 
of those obvious things so obvious that 
it is constantly ignored or forgotten. 
A mere exposition, no matter how ear- 
nest, honest and intense, of a mood, ex- 
perience, racial characteristic and so on 
must not detain us if it falls short of 
a certain measure of artistic facility. 
For example, that vastly overestimated 
work "Boris Godounoff" is a curiosity, 
if you will, but hardly a work of art; 
and no one in their senses would urge 
a consideration of parochial or na- 
tional artistic activity if, from a technical 
standpoint, that activity were incompe- 
tent. We can maintain, however, that in 
the best work of the American painter a 



perfect co-ordination is accomplished be- 
tween a veracious representation and a 
superb and satisfying craftsmanship. 
That we hesitate to believe in the ex- 
cellence of our painters is, as I have re- 
peatedly pointed out, a survival of that, 
time in our history when we valued 
European art not dispassionately and on 
its merits, but, instead, with a kind of 
wholesale, take-it-for-grantedness now 
happily a part of the past. Even yet it is 
a little difficult for us to acknowledge 
that an Ethan Frome is. a piece of lit- 
erature that may hold its own in any 
company, or that an Inness such as was 
on exhibition last season at the gallery 
of Messrs. Scott and Fowles may be the 
equal of any painting of its kind that the 
world has so far seen. 

Much to my regret, the space at my 
disposal has not allowed me to attempt 
a sheerly critical estimate of the collec- 
tive and individual work of American 
painting. As to this collective and indi- 
vidual worth opinions differ. Many 
will dismiss American painting for a 
negligible thing scarce worth an argu- 
ment, a mere sterile replica of the art 
of the past. Others, besides the present 
writer, believe that it possesses an integ- 
rity of its own, and that it may even 
represent an inestimable development in 
the art of painting. However this may 
be, this article has attempted merely to 
emphasise those features of the matter 
that are susceptible to an actual dem- 
onstration, and to record certain sali- 
ences of an unmistakable sequence and 
significance. 



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THE MASQUE OF POETS* 

EDITED BY EDWARD J. O'BRIEN 

AN APRIL SEQUENCE 

I 

Premonition 

Where does the wind from the wilding blow 
Troubh'ng the dream-caught woods of dawn 

With hushed remembrance of woven music 
Out of the shadowy gates of horn? 

Under the still-fringed water-meadows 

Colour IS veining the grassy ways. 
Over the dove-clad clouds of winter 

A lark's cry falls through the ringing haze. 

Wind and water and star-paled heaven 

Mingle in colour and whisper of wind. 
Earth and air call unto the Father. 

Can April wonder be far behind? 

II 
Tiding 

When all the tides of April 

Are rising in the air, 
And flowing grass and cloud 

And sea are fair, 

Light circles in the flower 

And flesh and foam, 
And body unto body 

Now turns home, 

*"The Masque of Poets" is made up of the following contributors: Thomas 
Walsh, Witter Bynncr, Margaret Widdemer, Amelia Josephine Burr, Anna Hemp- 
stead Branch, William Rose Benet, Sarah N. Cleghorn, William Alexander Percy, 
Christopher Morley, Vachel Lindsay, Carl Sandburg, Vincent O'Sullivan, John 
Gould Fletcher, Grace Hazard Conkling, Sara Teasdale, George Sterling, Harriet 
Monroe, Edgar Lee Masters, Arthur Davison Ficke, Bliss Carman, Edwin Arling- 
ton Robinson, Lincoln Colcord, William Stanley Braithwaite, Conrad Aiken, Jo- 
sephine Preston Peabody, Amy Lowell, Charles Wharton Stork, Edward J. O'Brien, 
The series will continue throughout the year, and, probably in the November num- 
ber, the poems, given hitherto anonymously, will be listed with their authors* names. 
In the meantime, correspondence regarding the poems and their authorship is invited 
by the Editor. 



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46 The Masque of Poets 

While He whom, clad in colour 
And dream knd prayer, 

Light heralds, rises naked, 
And white, and fair. 



Ill 

That skylark curving toward the south 
And circling idly up the wind. 

Unmindful of the winter's way. 
Leaves melody behind. 

Proclaiming through his arch of gold 
From heaven high to earth's deep, 

The wind that blows the stars to flame 
Cradles flowers in their sleep. 



IV 
April Flame 

Wind of the foaming air, 

Ripple over my heart, 
With April flame bend low. 

Of mine a part. 

Flower of the western sky. 

Blow in my flesh, 
With April laughter mine. 

Caught in my mesh. 

Stars of the budding night, 

Shine on my brow: 
Make of these smouldering fires 

White wisdom now! 



Why grieve to see the light in air. 

Or sigh, of April fain? 
White orchards all afoam with stars 
Shall flower the dreaming plain. 

For spring comes white with morning, 
And laughs the clouds away. 

Why grieve that April flame is fled? 
Arise, and shout with May! 



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The Masque of Poets 47 

AFTERNOON 

Some one is coming to call. 

Up the red brick path between daffodils dancing 

I see white ruffles that blow: 

A parasol, dipping against the sun. 

It is some one stout, and warm in her new white gloves. 

My old green apron is smudged with the garden-mould. 
My hands are the hands of a peasant-woman. My hair 
Comes tumbling down into my eyes. 

I wish I could lie down flat like a child 

And hide in the grass, while she rings and rings, 

And sticks her card under the door with a sigh, 

And puffs away down the path. 

I wish — but the parasol bobs. 

And she bobs like a mandarin's lady, 

Smiling and bridling and beckoning. 

If I were a daffodil, in an apron of green and gold — 

But there she stands on the path, 

And her gloves are so new they squeak with newness and stoutness, 

And I know she will talk of the weather and stay an hour — 

If I were a daffodil-r- 

Or a little cool blinking bug 

Down in the daffodil leaves — 

TO BUTTERFLY 

Do you remember how the twilight stood * 

And leaned above the river just to see 

If still the crocus buds were in her hood. 

And if her robes were gold or shadowy? 

Do you remember how the twilight stood 

When we were lovers and the world our wood? 

And then, one night, when we could find no word, 
But silence trembled like a heart — like mine! — 
And suddenly that moon-enraptured bird 
Awoke and all the darkness turned to wine? 
*How long ago that was! And how absurd 
For us to own a wood that owned a bird ! 

They tell me there are magic gardens still. 
And birds that sleep to wake and dream to sing, 
And streams that pause for crocus skies to fill ; 
But they that told were lovers and 'twas spring. 
Yet why the moon to-night's a daffodil 
When it is March — Do you remember, still? 



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48 The Masque of Poets 

THE LAST SUCKLING 

Mother, in some sad evening long ago, 

From thy young breast my groping lips were taken, 
Their hunger stilled, so soon again to waken. 

But nevermore that holy food to know. 

Ah ! nevermore ! for all the child might crave ! 

Ah ! nevermore ! through years unkind and dreary ! 

Often of othdr fare my lips are weary. 
Unwearied once of what thy bosom gave. 

(Poor wordless mouth that could not speak thy name I 
At what unhappy revels has it eaten 
The viands that no memory can sweeten, — 

The banquet found eternally the same!) 

Then fell a shadow first on thee and me. 

And tendrils broke that held us two how dearly! 
Once infinitely thine, then hourly, yearly. 

Less thine, as less the worthy thine to be! 

(O mouth that yet should kiss the mouth of Sin! 

Were lies so sweet, now bitter to remember? 

Slow sinks the flame unfaithful to an ember ; 
New beauty fades and passion's wine is thin.) 

How poor an end of that solicitude 
And all the love I had not from another! 
Peace to thine unforgetting heart, O Mother, 

Who gav'st the dear and unremembered food 1 



HE SINGS BECAUSE HiS WIFE HAS GONE OUT OF THE HOUSE 

He sings because his wife has gone out of the house: 
Bending over the table in the twilight of the room 
He sings soft old things he sang when he was a boy, 
And near his chair stays listening a grey mouse. 

He sings because the gay loud woman is out in the town, 

And in his heart there is a quiet, and the room is so still 

That the grey mouse preens its whiskers far away from the wall, 

For the man's voice is dreamy and kind like those who are very ill. 

And he wonders if some day his wife will go out of the house 
And leave him alone with the mouse, too still to feel more 
Than the waves and the waves of quiet in the darkened room. 
As he lies with the sun on his face through a chink of the door. 



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THE PSYCHOANALYSTS 



BY HAVELOCK ELLIS 



In 1895 an unostentatious book quietly 
appeared in Leipzig and Vienna en- 
titled Studies of Hysteria (Studien iiber 
Hysterie), written jointly by two au- 
thors, Dr. Josef Breuer and Dr. Sig- 
mund Freud. There was no public 
ready to receive the book; it attracted 
little attention, and had a small sale. 
In England and America it remained 
almost unknown, so that it is now a 
satisfaction to the present writer to re- 
call that perhaps the first full and sym- 
pathetic exposition in English of the 
views set.iorth in this book appeared 
in the first volume of his own Studies 
in the Psychology of Sex in 1898. Yet 
these studies of hysteria, as -tmr attentive 
reader could scarcely fail to realise, 
turned over a new page in medical psy- 
chology, and the new page was of fasci- 
nating interest. A case of hysteria was 
no longer to be regarded as on the 
psychic side, almost beneath a physician's 
serious attention, nor was it to be set- 
tled merely by an accurate description 
of the physical symptoms, after the 
manner of Charcot's school, to which, 
in the first place, Freud himself had be- 
longed. It was a mystery to be pa- 
tiently investigated, a mystery to which 
the key often lay far back and forgot- 
ten in the patient's history, and when 
skilfully used, with knowledge and in- 
sight, the patient's medical history ac- 
quired not only psychological signifi- 
cance, but something of the interest of a 
novel. Freud himself clearly recog- 
nised this and stated, even in this first 
book, that it was by a representation of 
psychic processes, "such as wc are ac- 
customed to receive from the poet," that 
he had gained his insight into the na- 
ture of hysteria. 

Priority in the inception of the ideas 
contained in this book, and the treat- 



ment based on them, belongs, as Pro- 
fessor Freud has since acknowledged, to 
the elder writer. Dr. Breuer. After 
acting as the missionary for the conver- 
sion of his more famous colleague, 
Breuer disappears from the psycho- 
analytic scene. He was indeed an uncon- 
scious if not unwilling missionary in this 
field. He pointed out the road, but 
could not accompany the disciple far 
along it. He signed with Freud the 
statement in the Preface that "sexuality 
plays a leading part in the causation of 
hysteria," and elsewhere makes the em- 
phatic statement on his own account 
that "the great majority of serious neu- 
roses in women arise from the marriage- 
bed." But it would appear, from what 
Freud has more recently said, that on 
this fundamental question of sex Breuer 
never fully shared the revelation, as 
Freud has himself put it, Breuer 
guided him to an insight which he him- 
self never gained. 

The process, so far as the change of 
attitude toward sex is concerned, may 
deliberately be termed "conversion," and 
it is that term (Bekehrung) which 
Freud himself applies to it ; for we may 
best understand it as of the nature of a 
religious conversion, a changed attitude 
toward the world and the revelation of 
a mission in life. 

We have to remember that Freud 
was the pupil of Charcot and under 
Charcot's inspiration was preparing tc 
devote himself to the physical aspects 
of nervous disease and to physical treat- 
ment, especially electroitherapeutics. 
Charcot was indifferent to the psychic 
side of his cases and — following the 
French medical tradition and well sec- 
onded by his pupils — ^he regarded the 
recognition of a sex element in the cau- 
sation of disease as degrading. That 



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attitude was the outcome of the whole 
of Charcot's temperament and habit in 
approaching disease, as was clear at 
once to anyone who saw him — as I still 
vividly recall him — in his dealings with 
patients at the Salpetriere. One real- 
ised that he felt a complete mastery of 
the case and that he regarded it as a 
purely physical problem; for the patient 
himself, and for any communication that 
the patient might be able to make, he 
felt evidently an almost contemptuous 
disdain. There could be no attitude 
more directly opposed to that which 
Freud ultimately reached. But it was 
in that atmosphere Freud was trained 
to approach nervous disorders. We can 
well believe that, when at length faced 
by the mysterious Sphinx of sex he had 
flouted and met with the stern demand 
why he had persecuted her, Freud 
passed through a deep spiritual upheaval, 
a complete revelation comparable to 
that experienced by a still greater Jew- 
ish apostle of truth in days of old on 
the road to Damascus. If we are 
tempted to think, as most of us cer- 
tainly are tempted to think, that the 
convert has sometimes been dazzled by 
his new vision and drawn by his convic- 
tions to excess, we may learn to view 
these • results with a more sympathetic 
tolerance if we understand how, cer- 
tainly on the basis of a favourable 
soil, they were originally brought 
about. 

It can scarcely be said that there 
seems to us much excess to-day in this 
early volume of Studies on Hysteria, 
although, Freud tells us, its unconven- 
tional views sufficed to create around 
him a vacant space even in the circle of 
his friends. Much as the Freudian doc- 
trines and formulas have been trans- 
formed since, not only was the sexual 
element in the causation of hysteria here 
clearly recognised at the outset, but the 
chief lines of its psychic mechanism 
I were set forth. The doctrine of the "sup- 
, pression" of unpleasant, and usually 
sexual, experiences into the unconscious 
was there, and, Freud has lately de- 



clared, "the doctrine of suppression is 
now the foundation pier on which the 
structure of psychoanalysis rests." 
There was also the doctrine of "con- 
version," by which an emotional experi- 
ence may be changed into a physical, 
and usually pathological, phenomenon 
having no conscious or apparent resem- 
blance to its emotional cause, which this 
process, more or less, relieves and re- 
moves, so that, as Freud expressed it, 
"the hysterical symptoms are built up at 
the cost of the remembered emotions;" 
at the origin the physical pain or dis- 
ability had been associated, in time, with 
the emotional experience, but the link 
had never been recognised in conscious- 
ness. We see again in this book the 
conception of "symbolism," which was 
afterward to play so important and so 
much discussed a part in Freud's teach- 
ing; in this first book, however, the 
symbolism of objects was, as Freud has 
since acknowledged, overlooked though 
present, and the symbolism revealed 
was a symbolism of situations, a sexual 
situation being represented by an analo- 
gous situation on a different and more 
avowable plane; it was, therefore, more 
a physiological than a psychic symbol- 
ism. In this first book, once more, we 
have the tendency for the sexual 
exciting cause of the disorder to be 
traceable further and further back to- 
ward early life, although there was, as 
yet, no definite assertion of "infantile 
sexuality," which was not put forward 
until 1905. Finally, the Freudian 
method of treatment was in principle 
here established as a method of drawing 
out and bringing to the surface of con- 
sciousness a repressed and corroding ele- 
ment, a method by Breuer termed "ca- 
thartic," though Freud himself later 
termed it "analytic," probably because 
he felt unable to accept Breuer's con- 
ception of "a foreign body in conscious- 
ness." No extreme position at any 
point can, indeed, be said to be taken in 
this first book, and it is probable that 
many to-day who view psychoanalysis 
with horror might peruse the volume 



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5' 



with a degree of assent they would not 
have felt when it was published, for 
even the opponents of Freud have now 
absorbed some of the ideas he has flung 
into modern currents of thought. 

For my own part, it seemed a fasci- 
nating book even when it was first pub- 
lished, and I read it with sympathy and 
real enlightenment, if perhaps some re- 
serves of judgment. The attitude of 
Charcot toward sex in relation to hys- 
teria was by no means universally 
shared in England. Various physicians 
had stated their belief that l^t sexual 
emotions, by no means necessarily or 
usually in their coarser aspects, played 
an important part in the causation of 
hysteria. I had myself, a year earlier 
(in Man and Woman), ventured to ex- 
press the opinion that the part played by 
the sexual emotions in hysteria was un- 
derestimated. So that I was fully pre- 
pared to accept the conclusions of the 
authors of the Studien uber Hysterie, 
and indeed read the book with rare in- 
tellectual delight, not because its thesis 
agreed with my own, but because that 
thesis was presented with a sympathetic 
intuition and a power of skilful analy- 
sis which had never before, even by 
Janet, been expended on the delicate 
and elusive mechanisms of the disor- 
ordered emotions. I still think that 
there is no simpler or more persuasive 
introduction to Freud's work than his 
first book. 

Freud was pleased with my recogni- 
tion of the book and from that time 
began an exchange of publications and 
occasionally of letters. He found in my 
Studies helpful suggestions in the de- 
velopment of his own doctrine, sxigges- 
tions which I had not myself been in- 
clined to carry to an extreme or dog- 
matic form. In this way he was en- 
couraged by the "Histories" of normal 
persons in the third volume of my 
Studies, as well as by an instructive 
article published by Sanford Bell in the 
American Journal of Psychology, to fol- 
low up the task he had already begun 
of pushing back the sexual origins of 



neuroses to an ever earlier age, and 
especially to extend this early origin so 
as to cover not only neurotic but ordi- 
nary individuals, an extension of pivotal 
importance, for it led to the Freudian 
doctrine becoming, instead of a mere 
clue to p§ychopathology, a principle of 
universal psychological validity. In 
this way he finally reached that concep- 
tion of constitutional "infantile sexu- 
ality" which he regards as so funda- 
mental, and his opponents as so hor- 
rible. He also adopted some of my 
terminology, such as "auto-erotism" and 
"Narcissism." The first of these two 
terms, however, I may remark, the 
Freudians have often perverted and 
confused. This was not entirely due to 
Freud himself who, when in 1905 he 
first adopted the term, found its chief 
significance in the fairly legitimate sense 
of a sexual impulse which was not di- 
rected toward other persons and found 
its satisfaction in the individual's own 
person. But, subsequently, Freudians 
have often used the term to indicate a 
sexual impulse which not only found its 
satisfaction within the individual's own 
person, but was actually directed toward 
his own person. Now that is what I 
had termed Narcissism, and regarded as 
a sub-division of the great group of 
auto-erotic phenomena. The essential 
characteristic of an auto-erotic manifes- 
tation, as I had devised the term, was 
that the erotic impulse arose spontane- 
ously and from within and was not 
evoked from without in response to the 
developed normal appeal of an attrac- 
tive external influence. I formed the 
word on the model of such words as 
"automobile," which means moving by 
itself, and not, as the Freudians would 
have it, toward itself. I regard erotic 
dreams in sleep and erotic reverie in 
waking life as the typical form of auto- 
erotism, and the term seemed to me a 
convenient way of grouping together a 
large number of phenomena for which 
no common name had previously ex- 
isted. That is why I consider that the 
Freudian tendency to limit the term to 



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The Psychoanalysts 



a single group of manifestations is ille- 
gitimate and confusing, for it stultifies 
a useful name for which there is no 
other convenient equivalent. So far as 
I know, indeed, no Freudian has at- 
tempted to justify this perversion of the 
term. 

The point is worth mentioning be- 
cause it indicates a frequent Freudian 
tendency to looseness in definition. This 
is to be noted, but not altogether to be 
blamed. Definitions are not so essential 
in the biological sciences as in the 
mathematical sciences. Moreover, the 
Freudians are at the beginning of their 
science, if science it may be termed, 
while precisely accurate definitions come 
at the end of an investigation and not 
at the beginning. This looseness of defi- 
nition has been a part of the vital 
growth, the perpetually shifting new de- 
velopment, which has so strikingly 
marked Freud's work. 

Freud's conceptions have indeed 
grown marvellously. The Studien uber 
Hysteric have long been left behind. 
He is perpetually remoulding his ideas^ 
as his experience widens and his insight 
becomes more penetrating, introducing 
new ideas, extending them into new 
fields. From hysteria psychoanalysis was 
applied to other groups of psycho-neu- 
rotic disorders : first to morbid obsessions 
and impulsions, then to all sorts of 
psychic disorders, including various 
forms of insanity, though it may be 
doubted whether it has worked out as 
well in any of them as in hysteria; and 
in the severe forms of mental disease, 
as Freud himself has pointed out, it is 
helpless. The application of the Freu- 
dian ideas to the normal child was, as 
has been said, a pivot on which the 
whole doctrine has turned. It involved, 
first of all, a new elaborate analysis of 
all that is meant by sexuality. The in- 
fant, the young child, is, of course, not 
sexual in the limited and localised sense 
which we have in mind when we think 
of sexuality in the adult. In the young 
child, as viewed by Freud, sexuality is 
generalised and may take on many 



forms — forms which in later life, if we 
found them associated with a specific 
underlying sexual impulse, we should 
call perverse. Therefore Freud regards 
the child as "polymorph-perversc" and, 
as is indeed well recognised (and as my 
own investigations had repeatedly 
shown), the sexual perversions of later 
life may largely be regarded as a per- 
sistence of, or a return to, the impulses 
of child life. The extreme and pro- 
nounced way in which Freud set forth 
his doctrine of infantile sexuality 
aroused n^ich opposition and resentment 
among many people who failed to real- 
ise, that sex in early life is a very differ- 
ent thing from sex in adult life. Later 
Freud deprived this objection of its 
force by a dextrous turn of the artist's 
hand, which became necessary at the 
point he had reached; he enlarged the 
whole conception of sexuality, and 
"Libido" for him became practically the 
manifestation of any pleasurable desire. 
The extension of the Freudian domain 
to cover the normal child necessarily led 
on to the inclusion of the normal adult 
and all his activities. Freud was greatly 
helped and encouraged here by the ap- 
plication of psychoanalysis to dreams. 
We may all, he holds, apply psycho- 
analysis to ourselves, and demonstrate 
the validity of its principles by studying 
our dreams. He attaches supreme im- 
portance to this field of investigation: 
"dream interpretation is the foundation 
stone of psychoanalysis." His largest 
and most elaborately detailed book is on 
dreams, Die Traumdeutung. It was 
certainly a legitimate and hopeful field 
of investigation — though there are some 
of us, some even who have given special 
study to the analysis of dreams — who 
doubt whether the great and rich field 
of dream-life can be so entirely squeezed 
into the limits of the Freudian formulas 
as Freud has asserted, and who cannot 
possibly accept the wild statement that 
before psychoanalysis dreams were re- 
garded as "a purely bodily phenome- 
non," outside psychology. Only one 
further extension of the Freudian con- 



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53 



ception was possible, and that Freud 
eventually took. Having included in- 
dividual psychology in his domain, he 
proceeded to incorporate also therein, 
collective psychology, so that finally 
psychoanalysis could be applied to all 
the highest social manifestations of 
human development. 

A few years ago Freud himself pub- 
lished a schematic outline of the various 
sciences to which psychoanalysis had 
been applied or become applicable:* 
(i) it helps to explain much in the 
science of language; (2) it modifies the 
hypotheses of philosophy and stimulates 
philosophical activities in new direc- 
tions; (3) it affects biology, not only 
by, for the first time, doing justice to 
the place of the sexual function in hu- 
manity, but by acting as a mediator be- 
tween biology and psychology; (4) psy- 
choanalysis brings new contributions to 
our conception of evolution, showing 
that the old axiom, that the development 
of the individual repeats the develop- 
ment of the race, applies also in the 
psychic sphere, and indicating that in- 
fantile psychic formations persist in the 
adult; (5) it also contributes to the his- 
tory of civilisation, not only by helping 
to explain myths and legends but by il- 
luminating the origin of great human 
institutions as attempts to relieve human 
needs which cannot be directly grati- 
fied; (6) in the fine arts it plays a simi- 
lar part, explaining alike the hidden 
motives of the artist and of his audience 
in seeking to resolve a conflict which 
might otherwise work out disastrously; 
(7) it likewise concerns sociology, for 
the forces which cause repression and' 
suppression of the individual are mainly 
engendered by docility to social de- 
mands; (8) psychoanalysis is, further, 
of the greatest importance for the sci- 
ences of education by revealing the true 
nature of childhood and enabling the 
educator to avoid the danger of too vio- 
lently repressing instincts which may 
seem to the adult vicious and abnormal, 
but which are only rendered dangerous 

•Scientia. Vol. XIV, 1913. p. 169. 



by the adult's futile attempts to crush 
them, instead of allowing them in due 
course to be sublimated, for "our high- 
est virtues have arisen as reactive sub- 
limations from the foundation of our 
worst predispositions." 

What is Freud's vocation? One is 
tempted by this enumeration of the 
fields in which he claims to be working 
to ask a question to which the answer 
may not be quite obvious. He started 
as a medical psychopathologist, but 
medicine covers now only a small part 
of his field. We cannot even describe 
him as a man of science, for he attaches 
himself to no particular science — even 
as a psychologist he is too large to be 
fitted into any school — and his activities 
are individualised, intuitive, and concep- 
tual to a degree which removes them 
from the impersonal and objectively 
verifiable basis of science. He enters 
the philosophic domain and might by 
some be termed a metaphysician; but 
here, again, apart from the fact that, as 
he himself has frequently observed, he 
has always deliberately avoided the 
study of philosophic literature, he by 
no means lives, as the philosopher is 
bound to live, in the world of ideas, but 
is primarily absorbed in the active ma- 
nipulation of human nature. His ac- 
tivities are, indeed, above all, plastic 
and creative, and we cannot understand 
him unless we regard him as, above all, 
an artist. He is indeed an artist who 
arose in science, and to a large extent 
remains within that sphere, with dis- 
concerting results alike to himself and 
his followers, when he, or they, attempt 
to treat his work as a body of objectively 
demonstrable scientific propositions. It 
has thus happened that nearly all the 
chief and ablest of his early supporters — 
Bleuler, Adler, Jung and Stekel — ^have 
successively left him. For in art we are 
concerned with matters of taste and 
sympathetic insight, which one person 
may feel and another not, or even the 
same person may feel to-day and cease 
to feel to-morrow. Freud himself has 
stated that he cannot psychoanalyse a 



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The Psychoanalysts 



patient unless he experiences sympathy 
toward that patient; it is the artist's at- 
titude. What is peculiar about Freud's 
art is the novelty of the medium in 
which its plastic force is exercised. It is 
not a physical medium, it is not even a 
purely intellectual medium, such as is 
dealt with by the philosopher who also 
is in his way an artist. Freud's art 
is the poetry of psychic processes which 
lie in the deepest and most mysterious 
recesses of the soul. He began with 
themes which, novel as they were, at the 
same time were not diflScult to follow. 
But as his art developed he proceeded to 
weave ever subtler and more daring har- 
monies, as his technique became firm, 
often choosing the very simplest theme 
for development into an elaborate struc- 
ture. A beautiful instance of this is his 
essay on Leonardo da Vinci, in which he 
builds up the whole of Leonardo's char- 
acter from one slight childish reminis- 
cence which that great man chances to 
have recorded. Freud's daring virtu- 
osity is perhaps shown even more re- 
markably in his essay on Jensen's novel, 
Gradiva, in which he elaborately psy- 
choanalyses an imaginary story; the re- 
sults are altogether disclaimed by the 
novelist, but they perfectly illustrate the 
psychoanalyst's conceptions. Truth or 
fiction, to the artist it is all one, even 
when the artist is a psychoanalyst, for 
he is only concerned with truth to his 
art. 

Freud's method is so complex, so 
novel, so startlingly opposed at many 
points to accepted belief (and therefore 
so apt to arouse both bitter hostility 
and ardent enthusiasm) that it is not 
possible to expound it fully and fairly 
in a small space. A brief outline of 
some of his main positions may perhaps 
be helpful. 

As Freud views the psychic field the 
largest and even the most important 
part of it lies in an unconscious region. 
A main part of the art of the psycho- 
pathologist, and indeed of the psycholo- 
gist generally in Freud's sense, consists 
in tracing the passage of infantile im- 



pulses into the unconscious, in discover- 
ing the processes of conversion which 
take place in this obscure region, and in 
bringing them again to the conscious 
surface of life, in which transformation 
not only is the abnormal rendered nor- 
mal, but those sublimations take place 
in which human culture consists. Nor- 
mally the process is a part of human 
evolution; abnormally, in neurotic per- 
sons, the process miscarries and the help 
of art is necessary to render the proc- 
ess natural. This art is the whole of 
psychoanalysis. 

Freud traces back the processes with 
which he deals to roots in early child- 
hood, to an infantile disposition with 
certain resultant psychic mechanisms, and 
that is largely why they are lost from 
ordinary view in the unconscious. The 
later psychic developments are highly 
important, but they are always ob- 
scurely connected with more fundamen- 
tal, however concealed, roots in child- 
hood or infancy, even though ultimately 
they are shaped by human imagination 
into the great figures and conflicts of 
Myth and Religion and Art. 

This infantile source of later psychic 
processes is, in Freud's view, sexual, 
though, as already indicated, a dexter- 
ous sleight of the artist's hand has later 
enlarged the conception of sexual pleas- 
ure by combining it with all pleasure, 
thus taking away the ground from the 
anti-Freudians' feet. On infantile sex- 
uality, and on its significance for all 
later life, he lays great stress. The in- 
fant's sexual life he regards as highly 
complex. It primarily consists in sim- 
ple tactile pleasures, in thumb-sucking, 
in friction of the various body open- 
ings, or of other sensitive spots. It de- 
velops into a special interest in the ac- 
tivity of the excretory functions. Ex- 
tending to other persons, it tends to at- 
tach itself in the boy's case to his 
mother, in the girl's case to the father, 
as well as between brothers and sisters, 
and it also tends to ignore the adult dis- 
tinction of sex: "You will not be 
wrong," Freud says, "in attributing to 



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55 



every child a fragment of homosexual 
aptitude." These special attractions 
may easily become special aversions. 
Fundamentally, however, they are 
wishes. A sexual wish is, in Freud's 
view, fundamental. 

^^ In the course of the development, 
however, the infantile wish, as a re- 
sult of important conflicts, disappears 
into unconsciousness and is replaced in 
consciousness by some other manifesta- 
tion. This is inevitable, for, as the sub- 
ject grows older, the moralised emo- 
tions of shame and disgust, acting as 
censors, drive the infantile "sexual" wish 
out of the conscious field. Fragments, 
indeed, of this infantile state of desire 
may in some cases persist in the form 
of fixed perversions. Perversions are 
related to neuroses as positive to nega- 
tive. In the neuroses the same original 
impulses are at work, but they are work- 
ing from the unconscious side, all the 
intensity of the suppressed emotion be- 
coming transferred to the physical symp- 
tgoi^-NDisease is thus, in Freud's words, 
a flight from unsatisfying reality into 
something which, though biologically in- 
jurious, is not without advantage for 
the patient, for it is a kind of cloister 
into which, with his transformed infan- 
tile longings, the patient retires when 
deceived by the world or no longer able 
to fight against the world. We imagine 
that we can destroy our childish and 
primitive impulses by some miraculous 
process and change them into nothing. 
It is not so, says Freud. Nothing is 
destroyed. We can at the most shift 
our desires into the unconscious, con- 
vert them into morbid shapes, or subli- 
mate them, and then not entirely, into 
exalted ideal impulses. Spirit is as in- 
destructible as matter; that is Freud's 
great discovery. Freud's work is the 
revelation in the spiritual world of that 
transformation and conservation of 
energy which half a century earlier had 
been demonstrated in the physical 
world. ^ 

That is an abbreviated description of 
a state of things which, as Freud now 



views it, is of universal extension, and 
represents a fundamental human proc- 
ess of supreme importance. It is only 
in the rare cases in which it is intensi- 
fied through occurring in abnormal per- 
sons that it becomes morbid and de- 
mands the physician's attention. The 
method by which the physician of 
Freud's school investigates this state of 
things, by bringing it to the light of 
consciousness and, in so doing, relieving 
it, is the famous method of psycho- 
analysis. 

V^At first, when working with Breuer, 
Freud used hypnotism as the vehicle of 
his method. He has, however, long 
since abandoned that method as capri- 
cious and mystical, while in many cases 
the patients could not be hypnotised at 
all. He prefers to investigate the pa- 
tient in the normal state by what he 
terms the analytic method. For a doc- 
tor to find out what he is ignorant of 
by addressing questions to an equally 
ignorant patient seems unpromising. 
But Freud remembered that he had 
seen Bernheim show at Nancy that, 
when a patient appears ignorant of 
what happened to him in a previous hyp- 
notic state, his ignorance is not really 
absolute, but may with skill be overcome. 
He found it was the same with the 
early emotional experiences which lay 
at the roots of these patients' neuroses. 
Freud encourages the patient to say 
everything, however irrelevant or inde- 
corous or silly, which comes into his 
head, while he, as it were, stands by and 
watches these bubbles from the psychic 
depth, on the look out for those which 
furnish a clue to the nature of the proc- 
ess beneath. Jung developed a val- 
uable branch of this psychoanalysis with 
his method of free association, which 
consists in reading out a string of 
words to the patient, telling him to say 
at once what each word suggests, and 
noting down the results, in the faith, 
often verified, that in this way the pa- 
tient will unconsciously give away se- 
crets that are unknown even to himself, 
not merely by the nature of the words 



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that he responds with, but by his hesi- 
tation in responding at all to certain 
words. This method Freud regards as 
the psychoanalytic equivalent of the 
chemist's qualitative analysis. 

As the patient's real history is thus 
brought to the surface and revealed, 
slowly and laboriously — and Freud ad- 
mits that the process is extremely slow 
and laborious — the patient is enabled to 
become conscious of the morbid process 
and in so doing is greatly assisted in 
casting it off. In that way the psycho- 
analytic method is, as Breuer termed it, 
cathartic, and, as Freud points out, it is 
the very reverse of the hypnotic method, 
for while hypnotism seeks to put some- 
thing into the patient, psychoanalysis 
seeks to take something out, and is, as 
Freud has himself said, analogous to the 
sculptor's art. 

This conception of psychoanalysis was 
a brilliant idea for which Freud de- 
serves all credit. It has not, however, 
been pointed out, so far as I am aware, 
that Freud had a forerunner in the idea, 
though not in its clinical and therapeu- 
tical applications. In 1857 Dr. J. J. 
Garth Wilkinson, a noted Swedenbor- 
gian mystic and poet of his time, pub- 
lished a volume of mystic doggerel verse 
written by what he considered "a new 
method," the method of "Impression." 
"A theme is chosen or written down," 
he stated; "as soon as this is done the 
first impression upon the mind which 
succeeds the act of writing the title is 
the beginning of the evolution of that 
theme, no matter how strange or alien 
the word or phrase may seem." "The 
first mental movement, the first word 
that comes," is "the response to the 
mind's desire for the unfolding of the 
subject." It is continued by the same 
method, and Garth Wilkinson adds, "I 
have always found it led by an infalli- 
ble instinct into the subject." The 
method was, as Garth Wilkinson 
viewed it, a kind of exalted laissez- 
faire, a command to the deepest uncon- 
scious instincts to express themselves. 
Reason and will, he pointed out, are 



left aside; you trust to "an influx" and 
the faculties of the mind are "directed 
to ends they know not of." Garth 
Wilkinson, it must be clearly under- 
stood, although he was a physician, used 
this method for religious and literary 
and never for scientific or medical ends; 
but it is easy to see that essentially it is 
the method of psychoanalysis applied to 
one's self, and it is further evidence how 
much Freud's method is an artist's 
method. 

^When we survey the Freudian con- 
ception of psychoanalysis, it is manifest 
that the core of it is its doctrine' of sex 
impulse as appearing in infancy, passing 
through various phases and processes, 
mostly involving conflict, and ultimately 
developing— except when by miscarriage 
it takes on morbid shapes — into the 
loftiest cultural shapes that humanity 
can create. It is not only the core of 
Freudianism, it is also the chief point 
of attack for the opponents of Freud. 
It must be said that Freud has never 
compromised on the matter and to-day 
he vigourously reproaches Adler and 
Jung, once his chief lieutenants, for 
seeking to minimise or explain away the 
sexual core of psychoanalysis. It may 
indeed be said that Freud has even gone 
beyond his own thesis in his emphasis of 
sex. He is quite aware that he uses the 
term "sexuality" in, as he says, "a much 
wider sense than is usual," and no one 
has so well shown how different the 
sexual world of childhood is from that 
of the adult as Freud himself in his 
study of the sexual theories of children ; 
these theories commonly devised by chil- 
dren to explain the mysteries hidden 
from them are not only different from 
the adult's facts, they usually leave out 
entirely all that the adult means by sex- 
uality. So that when the ignorant adult 
approaches the sexual feelmgs of child- 
hood he is apt to make the crudest and 
most lamentable mistakes. Yet Freud 
himself has encouraged this error and 
exposed his position to quite unnecessary 
attacks by speaking of childish sexual 
psychology in terms of adult physical 



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The Psychoanalysts 



^1 



facts. This IS notably the case as re- 
gards Freud's introduction of the term 
"incest-complex" and by his acceptance 
as typical in this respect of the alto- 
gether adult story of CEdipus and Jo- 
casta. Although a very little consider- 
ation should have sufficed to show that 
these adult conceptions are on a differ- 
ent plane from the emotions and ideas 
of children, and though Freud had him- 
self shown how totally unlike the 
adult's are the ideal and undefined sex- 
ual visions of the child, the leader's con- 
fused mistake has been followed by a 
sheep-like flock of Freudians who have 
thereby copiously aided the unnecessary 
indignation of their opponents. For the 
truth is that, with a different concep- 
tion of "infantile sexuality" on each 
side, the Freudian and the anti-Freu- 
dian have each alike been fighting in St. 
Paul's words, "as one that beateth the 
air." 

We must at the same time remember 
that the Freudian emphasis on infantile 
sexuality, however careful and guarded 
the terminology adopted, would still 
have shocked and repelled the average 
conventional man and woman. In the 
matter of sex we are all a little mediae- 
val. Hunger and Love, said Schiller, 
are the two great pillars which support 
the world. It shocks Us not at all when 
the importance of the pillar of Hunger 
is emphasised, and even exaggerated, as 
it may be by the political economist. 
But it is another matter when we find 
the pillar of Love emphasised and even 
exaggerated. It is only the child of 
genius, trained to deal with facts and to 
follow Nature wheresoever she seems to 
lead, who is innocent of this prejudice 
and bewildered by the outcries he un- 
wittingly evokes. A distinguished 
thinker, James Hinton, who, like Freud, 
began as a physician and gradually ex- 
tended his speculations over the central 
facts of life, was such a child of genius 
worshipping and following Nature. 
"How utterly," he wrote, "all feeling 
of impurity, or reason for special feel- 
ing at all, is gone from the sexual pas- 



sion in my mind! It stands before me 
absolutely as the taking of food. I can- 
not even recall why the feelings of spe- 
cial impurity cling about it. It has 
taken its place in my mind absolutely 
afresh, and as one with all that is most 
simple and natural and pure and 
good."* It was in this spirit that Freud 
formulated his theory of "Libido," with 
its infantile manifestations and marvel- 
lous transformations, serenely pursuing 
his way, while the conventional world 
was shocked, and even his own chief 
supporters often fell away, Adler de- 
priving "Libido" of its love constituent 
and Jung even transferring it into a 
vague metaphysical abstraction. 

There is, however, no need to fall 
back on this, the fundamental justifica- 
tion or condemnation — as we choose to 
see it — of genius. We may preserve 
our usual worldly attitude and yet be 
able to discern that, when the misappre- 
hensions arising from bad terminology 
and extreme statement are put aside, the 
essentials of the Freudian vision of life 
may still be found acceptable. We have 
refused to face them, but we have ob- 
scurely recognised them, and they have 
even been plainly expressed, especially 
by poets and novelists. Let us take as 
an example one of the insights o1 Freud 
which has most aroused antagonism: the 
emotional relationship between mother 
and son, to which there is a correspond- 
ing relationship between 'father and 
daughter. This is notably a case in 
which feelings which are entirely plain 
to see have not yet been seen merely 
because people were unwilling to sec 
them. Mothers had been suckling their 
children for untold millions of years 
before, a century ago, Cabanis pointed 
out the nature of the delicious pleasure 
often — or, it is probable, normally — ex- 
perienced in suckling, and it is not sur- 
prising that another century should 
have elapsed before Freud pointed out 
that this pleasure is mutual, although 
in the infant it can only be termed 

♦Mrs. Havelock Ellis, James Hinion: A 
Sketch, 1917, p. 107. 



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"sexual" if we arc careful to under- 
stand that sexual pleasure at this early 
period IS an altogether diflEerent thing 
from what it becomes later. It nor- 
mally remains a different thing even for 
a considerable period, and toward the 
mother it is permanently a diflEerent 
thing, for the son always feels as a child 
to his mother, yet on this basis, which 
we may regard as physically non-sexual 
and emotionally sexual, the relations of 
mother and son may be, Freud would 
be inclined to say quite normally, com- 
parable to that of lovers. Let us turn 
to a novel, called Comme tout le 
Monde, written a few years ago by 
Madame Lucie Delarue-Mardrus, one 
of the best women novelists of France 
to-day. As the title indicates, it is a 
commonplace story, the ordinary story 
of an ordinary middle-class girl, wife, 
and mother, who experiences the ordi- 
nary joys of life and the ordinary de- 
ceptions. Yet the story is told with 
such art and such insight that, common- 
place as it is, and even because it is 
commonplace, we are made to feel that 
it IS a completely veradous record. Isa- 
belle, the young Norman lady who is 
the heroine, has two sons, and the elder, 
Leon, adores her; his earliest childish 
letters to her express this adoration; 
when he goes to school at the age of 
seven he kisses the little cakes his 
mother brings him because they have 
been in her -hands. But in a few years' 
time he becomes self-conscious and con- 
ceals his feelings; he loves to be in his 
mother's presence, but he is shy, re- 
served, and awkward, and is apt to get 
on his mother*s nerves, all the more so, 
as she, on her part, adores her younger 
son, through private emotional associa- 
tions preferring him to the elder boy, 
who m secret writes verses, and ad- 
dresses a poem to Joan of Arc, whom 
he sees in vision "beautiful as my 
mother." While still a schoolboy he 
dies, and only then it is that his mother 
realises the adoration expended upon 
her, and, too late, passionately responds 
to it. We may, again, turn to a recent 
English writer, "Anna Wickham," a 



mother of sons, who writes verse of a 
notably powerful, sincere, and poignant 
order. In a volume of hers we find 
the lines: 

My little son is my fond lover. 

• • • • • 

Sometimes I think that I'll be scarcely 

human 
If I can brook his chosen woman!* 

These emotions are experienced, they 
are even expressed (perhaps especially 
by women, as the sex of the writers I 
have quoted indicates), but we have put 
them aside, have carefully avoided con- 
sidering their significance, at the most 
have explained them, or ridiculed them, 
away. So that when at last the child 
of genius appears upon the scene, and 
sees, and realises what he sees, and pro- 
claims it aloud — as the child in the 
fairy tale cried out: "The Emperor has 
no clothes on!" — the world is shocked 
though it has only been told what in 
reality it already knew. 

We must not, however, conclude that 
Freud has herein performed an alto- 
gether unnecessary task. True, the "in- 
cest-complex" is a terminological ab- 
surdity, since the sexual theories of 
childhood are absolutely unlike those of 
the adult, and the adult's attitude has 
no more meaning for the child than, it 
would usually seem, the child's attitude 
has for the adult. Yet the sexual emo- 
tions remain on the psychic side the 
same, however unlike the ideas and the 
objects aimed at. Freud, with his art- 
ist's instincts, sensitive to Nature — for 
both the artist and the scientist are ex- 
plorers and revealers of Nature — ^has 
not only been more acutely aware of the 
existence of these infantile emotions 
than any before him, but he has more 
accurately investigated them, and he has, 
moreover, devised or created a dynamic 
mechanism into which they beautifully 
fit, to emerge at last, by a process of 
sublimation; it\ the highest manifesta- 
tions of the human spirit. 
^SGhe domain in which Freud works 
is largely that which he terms the "Un- 

•Anna Wickham, The Man with a Ham- 
mer, p. 44- 



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59 



conscious," the mighty treasure-house in 
which all the apparently forgotten ex- 
periences of our lives are stored. It is 
a mysterious and gloomy region, admi- 
rably adapted for the operation of 
Freud*s artistic genius. But we may 
do well to remember that it is a vast 
region and contains many things. With 
his complete sincerity, simplicity, and 
natural gift of divination, Freud has 
been happily inspired, into whatever ex- 
cesses of exaggeration we may believe 
he has sometimes fallen. But less finely 
gifted men may not fare so well in the 
Unconscious. They must select among 
the facts they find, and in their selec- 
tion ordinary psychoanalysts who have 
not the sensitive flair of genius to guide 
them will be guided by the rigid and 
systematic theory which has them in its 
clutches. This has been pointed out by 
Poul Bjerre of Stockholm, not an op- 
ponent of psychoanalysis, but himself a 
distinguished psychoanalyst, writing in 
Freud's own organ.* He is especially 
referring to those who expect to find 
the "incest-complex" everywhere, and 
who accordingly find it. "Life cannot 
be pressed into a single theory," he adds, 
"however impressed it may be by the 
highest genius, and however comprehen- 
sive." If these wise words linger in 
our minds we shall view Freud and his 
opponents alike with toleration and 
often with sympathy. 

It is not possible here to discuss those 
notable psychoanalysts who were once 
Freud's chief disciples and coadjutors 
and are now his rivals or opponents. It 
is the less necessary since, if we are 
mainly looking at psychoanalysis from 
the angle of sex, it cannot be said that 
they have added much to what Freud 
has brought forward, though they may 
sometimes have taken much away. They 
have all done good work. Professor 
Bleuler was a distinguished psychiatrist 
before he joined Freud, of admirable 
solidity, judgment, and insight. Stekel 
is a capable, energetic, and indus- 

^Jahrbuch fur Psychoanalytische For- 
tchungen, Vol. V, 191 3, p. 69a. 



trious worker. C. G. Jung, belonging 
to Zurich, where the first large move- 
ment of Freudian appreciation began, 
was an early adherent. He not only 
devised the associative method of ex- 
ploring concealed psychic states, but in- 
troduced the term "complex," a much 
used, and, as Freud thinks, much-abused 
if not unnecessary term, though, it must 
be added, Freud employs it himself. Of 
late years Jung has written copiously, 
and especially a very lengthy essay on 
the "Transformations and Symbols of 
Libido."* In this luxuriant jungle of 
philosophy and philology Jung wanders 
with random and untrained steps, 
throwing out brilliant suggestions here 
and there, hazarding the declarations 
that "the soul is all Libido," and that 
"sexuality itself is only a symbol," con- 
veying the general impression of a 
strayed metaphysician vainly seeking for 
the Absolute. He remains a psycho- 
analyst, but from Freud, who has never 
fallen into such extravagances, he has 
wandered far. Freud himself, in a con- 
tribution to the history of the psycho- 
analytic movement, written with all his 
transparent sincerity and instinctive 
charm, sums up an account of his for- 
mer disciple's relation to the movement 
by saying that Jung has furnished the 
psychoanalytic instrument with a new 
handle and then proceeded to put in a 
new blade. Alfred Adler is entitled to 
more respectful consideration, and here- 
in I am also expressing Freud's opinion. 
There is nothing of Jung's obscurity 
and confusion ; indeed Adler may be said 
to err in the opposite direction by be- 
coming too precise, narrow, and co- 
herent. His chief conception is that of 
the "impulse of aggression" and the 
"masculine protest" on which he places 
extreme emphasis. This is the impulse 
by which we seek to fortify our weak- 
est side, even that based on bodily de- 
fect, so that it develops into the domi- 

^Jung's work has been published in this 
country under the title of "The Psychology 
of the Unconscious" (New York: Moffat, 
Yard and Company). — Editor's Note. 



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nant aspect of our character. We may 
often see this illustrated by those un- 
developed persons who by dint of physi- 
cal culture ultimately come to regard 
themselves, and indeed may actually be- 
come, superior to the average in physi- 
cal development. This conception has 
proved fruitful, and Adler has suc- 
ceeded in forming a school of co- 
workers. All these investigators are 
not to be despised. But Freud remains 
the man who first devised the instru- 
ment of psychoanalysis as it is now 
known, and who revealed the world in 
which it operates. 

It must not therewith be concluded 
that any of the conceptions Freud has 
so artfully woven will of necessity en- 
dure permanently. He changes them 
so often himself that it would be fool- 
ish to suppose that his successors will 
not continue the same process. In this 
respect we may compare him with Lom- 
broso, another Jew of genius, who also 
began as a psychopathologist and also 
gradually extended his conceptions over 



a wide sphere of abnormal and normal 
life. His theories have been proved to 
be often defective, even his facts will 
not always bear examination; he him- 
self admitted that of the structure he 
had raised perhaps not one stone would 
remain upon another. Yet he enlarged 
the human horizon, he discovered new 
fields for fruitful research and new 
methods for investigating them. That 
was something bigger than either a 
sound theory or a precise collection of 
facts, for we do not demand of a Co- 
lumbus that he shall be a reliable sur- 
veyor of the new world he discovers. 
Freud, similarly and to a greater ex- 
tent, has enlarged our horizon. He has 
shown the existence of a vast psychic 
field of which before we had but scanty 
intimations. The human soul will 
never again be to human eyes what it 
was before Freud explored it. He has 
revealed the possibility of new depths, 
new subtleties, new complexities, new 
psychic mechanisms. That is the great 
and outstanding fact. 



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A MESSAGE TO MOTHERS 

BY FLORENCE FINCH KELLY. 



Being one of them, I am moved to 
write this message to the mothers of 
America, for it is the outcome of three 
years of feeling about the war that has 
searched the depths of my heart, of con- 
stant reading about its every phase and 
of thought about it that has been, at 
least, earnest and sincere. Thought and 
reading and emotion have all joined to- 
gether to produce in me the profoundest 
conviction I have ever known that civili- 
sation's finest and most valuable fruits 
are at stake and that we must send our 
sons to the slaughter fields in order that 
they and their sons and daughters will 
not be cast back into the dark centuries, 
to climb again the long road their an- 
cestors have toiled over in order to reach 
the levels we have won. 

If we think that we have evolved any- 
thing worth while here in this beloved 
country of ours, if we think that wc 
have advanced the cause of humanity by 
our labours, our ideals and our sacri- 
fices in the past, and if we feel the least 
shred of gratitude for those before us 
who made possible better, freer and 
richer lives for each succeeding genera- 
tion, then there is nothing for us to do 
but to give all that we have to those 
lines of khaki-clad men who are crossing 
the ocean to save for our grandchildren 
the things we value. The darkest, most 
backward-looking, most appalling forces 
that have menaced the forward-moving 
spirit of civilisation in many and many 
a year are what we are going forth to 
fight, and they must be overcome and 
sent to that limbo in which humanity 
disposes of the Frankinsteins that every 
now and then have thought to possess 
and enslave her. 

There is no escape from the choice. 
We must either fight, to the last man 
and woman of the nation, until those 
dark forces are overcome and plucked 



out and cast away, or we must submit 
and let them devour the world. We 
have passed through our Gethsemane in 
which we shuddered away from the 
awful, the loathesome task and said, 
"Let this cup pass from me!" And 
now that we have taken up the cross and 
set our feet toward Calvary we must go 
with the clearest understanding and the 
farthest vision and the most solemn con- 
viction, so that our hearts will not break 
and our resolution falter under the bur- 
dens and the sorrows that will weigh 
us down. 

I am not of those who think we should 
have entered the war before we did. It 
seems to me that we served the cause 
of civilisation better, made surer the 
unity of the nation and gained the ad- 
vantage of putting upon the enemy the 
complete onus of our entrance by stay- 
ing out of the conflict until the situa- 
tion left possible no other course. It 
surely is not worth while now to recount 
the reasons that urged us to action. 
Only those who arc at heart traitors 
both to their country and to the on- 
ward-looking spirit of civilisation, or 
those who have allowed pacifist theories 
to bemuse their sense of the actual, or 
those who cannot control their shrinking 
from the horribleness of war now have 
any doubt about the righteousness and 
the necessity of the course upon which 
America has entered. The first are or- 
dinary criminals, or rather, extraordi- 
nary criminals, since, with even less of 
the sense of right and wrong than is 
possessed by common malefactors, they 
seek to injure and betray, en masse, all 
the people of a great community. The 
only adequate answer to them is the law 
court and the jail. In the second class 
are to be found a few men and women 
of high character and distinguished 
achievement who are so obsessed by 



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A Message to Mothers 



pacifist convictions that they can see 
nothing but their own dreams. They 
do not hate war any more than do the 
rest of us; they do not perceive any 
more clearly its senselessness, its awful 
waste, its utter loathesomeness. But 
their minds are set so deeply into the 
groove in which they are accustomed to 
think and work that they cannot see 
over the top. 

A force powerful and sinister has 
set out to impose its will upon the 
rest of the world, to make all civili- 
sation over in its own evil image, to 
destroy the most cherished ideals and 
attainments and possessions of our own 
and other nations. It recognises no 
force but material power, no right but 
might. Against such a power^ already 
fighting desperately and determined to 
crush opposition, which recognises as 
reason or morality nothing that does not 
work toward its own purposes, it is 
worse than futile — it is mischievous — to 
oppose at this moment anything but the 
most powerful physical force it is pos- 
sible to summon. To talk pacifist the- 
ories now is as pitifully foolish as for a 
child to attempt to stop the conflagra- 
tion of a city by blowing soap bubbles 
at it. 

When Dr. David Starr Jordan and 
the People's Council and the Union 
Against Militarism and their associates 
and followers hold meetings and talk 
pacifist doctrines and demand peace re- 
gardless of consequences it is impossible 
not to cry out, "Oh, blind and foolish 
and wicked!" For every meeting they 
hold, every argument they make, every 
weak-willed convert they gain — if, in- 
deed, they gain any — are just so much 
help given within our own borders to 
our enemy and theirs. They merely 
make the war longer, perhaps by a 
month, perhaps by many months. They 
are adding to its cost in, none can say, 
how many millions of dollars ; how many 
thousands of lives; how much suffering 
and sorrow. Upon their hands and 
upon the hands of all those who have 
tried to obstruct the nation's prepara- 
tions, from members of the Senate down 



to German spies, will be the blood of 
thousands of the sons of American 
mothers. When once the nation has 
decided to fight it is no time for any 
loyal son or daughter to attempt to hold 
her arms. They can retire to their cel- 
lars and sulk, if they like, but in heaven's 
name lot them cease from giving aid to 
the enemy. 

As for those who cannot quite con- 
vince themselves of the necessity of our 
joining the warfare because they shrink 
from its awful features, or because they 
do not understand its seriousness and 
how appalling would have been the al- 
ternative, there is only one thing for 
them to do. And that is, to lessen their 
ignorance. If they will inform them- 
selves thoroughly upon all the causes of 
the war they will be so filled with hor- 
ror by the nature and the purposes of 
that force which we are fighting that 
all their shrinking and their doubts will 
end. 

It is not worth while to inquire into 
the immediate causes that led to the 
outbreak of the war three years ago. 
Thousands upon thousands of pages 
have been written about it. But the 
occasion^ the final cause, of any war is 
only the match laid to a trail of powder 
that leads to a mine. The mine and 
the trail were made ready long before, 
and when history weighs the evidence it 
is only these that count. The match be- 
comes no more than a matter of curious 
interest. And when history studies the 
course of affairs that led up to this pres- 
ent world war the things that will stand 
out prominently will be the spirit that 
had been fostered for years in Germany, 
the attitude toward the rest of the world 
in which the people of Germany had 
been drilled by their government; the 
aim toward which Germany for years 
had consciously and purposefully striven. 
It was these that caused the war. White 
books and blue books and the murder of 
a prince were merely incidental. And 
it is these that will continue to cause 
wars, endlessly, unless either they are 
allowed to dominate the world or they 
are plucked out and cast from the world 



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63 



as Satan was hurled from the battle- 
ments of heaven. 

Of the spirit that has been rampant 
in Germany ever since the beginning 
of the war, a spirit that strikes one cold 
with the horror of it even in a war- 
stricken, suffering nation, one gets illu- 
minating glimpses in a book by D. 
Thomas Curtin, a young American 
newspaper man, The Land of Deepening 
Shadow (George H. Doran Company). 
He has spent a good deal of the time 
since the beginning of the war and until 
as late as last January in Germany, and 
he contrived by various expedients to go 
about the country a great deal, and so 
to come into contact with all classes in 
many diflEerent regions. He tells how 
the government sedulously inculcates 
and fosters in the people, both adults 
and children, the spirit of hate. He 
heard a famous professor of the Uni- 
versity of Berlin deliver a "hate lec- 
ture" to a big audience in Munich in 
which the elite of that city filled the hall 
even to standing room. The professor 
told them, through an hour and a half, 
about their duty to "hate the very es- 
sence of everything English," to "hate 
the very soul of England," and ended 
by assuring them that "hatred is the 
greatest force in the world to overcome 
tremendous obstacles" and that "either 
one must hate or one must fear." There 
were nods and sighs of assent all 
through the lecture, and at its end a 
tumult of applause, exclamations of 
"beautiful" and "wonderful" and a 
rush of the throng to the stage to shower 
him with congratulations and admira- 
tion. The children in the schools are 
trained to hate the enemy, to worship 
the militaristic state, to love and vener- 
ate the Kaiser. Among the son^ they 
sing, written especially for use in the 
schools, is one which demands, "Strike 
dead everything which prays for mercy, 
shoot everything down like dogs," and 
cries out, "More enemies, more enemies, 
be your prayer in this hour of retribu- 
tion." Appalling as is the poisoning of 
the minds of the children, Mr. Curtin 
found the gospel of hate that was 



preached from the pulpits and sung 
by the congregations of the churches still 
fiercer and more venomous. Even if a 
pastor, by reason of having a Christian 
spirit in his own heart, detests this propa- 
gation of hate, he cannot help himself. 
He is the puppet of the state, just as 
are the professor, the schoolmaster and 
the newspaper, and they all are merely 
parts of the great state military machine 
that has worked for years and is still 
feverishly working to mould men and 
women into the spirit that will serve its 
purposes. Whatever the government 
wishes the people to believe or for what- 
ever purpose it wishes to have their 
support, it uses this machinery to bring 
about the desired result. Mr. Curtin 
says that long before it announced the 
unrestricted U-boat campaign it had be- 
gun to set in motion a campaign of hate 
against America as virulent as that 
against England in order to make sure 
of the wished-for national frame of 
mind. 

Going further back and giving a 
view of the prevailing ideas and tenden- 
cies in Germany before the war, A. D. 
McLaren's Germanism from Within (E. 
P. Dutton and Company) shows that all 
the appalling German characteristics 
and ambitions and purposes which have 
only begun to be slowly realised in their 
full monstrosity by the rest of the world 
since the beginning of the war have, for 
many years, been definite forces in the 
moulding of German national life and 
individual character. Mr. McLaren is 
an Australian who for thirty years has 
been deeply interested in German life, 
literature and philosophy, and had spent 
the six years preceding the war living 
in Germany in intimate association with 
many classes of the people, but espe- 
cially with those of higher intellectual 
training and occupation. He writes 
with unusual philosophic calm and with 
a temper so coldly judicial that for 
any sign of belligerent hostility his pages 
display he might as well be writing 
about the Martians. He saw much in 
Germany that pleased him, and some- 
times he compares the German with the 



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English way of doing something or other 
to the advantage of the former. But 
this honest and impartial observer, scru- 
tinising the ideals, the tendencies, the 
purposes manifest in the life of the Ger- 
man people for years before the war, 
saw in them the sources of what has 
actually happened since; saw the forces 
at work that made inevitable a war of 
conquest to be carried on regardless of 
the laws of nations and of humanity; 
saw the fostering and the rapid growth 
of a national spirit of megalomania bent 
on world dominion and persuaded that 
any means would be justified that would 
forward that purpose. In another book 
by this same author, Peaceful Penetration 
(E. P. Dutton and Company) can be 
studied some of the infamous means 
which the German Government has 
taken to aid that ambition. It is a 
chronicle of combined political and com- 
mercial intrigue, of spying by every class 
of German agent from bank clerk and 
missionary and visiting scientist to dip- 
lomatic attache and ambassador, of in- 
cessant underhanded malevolent activity 
in all parts of the world that ought to 
bring the blush of shame to the cheek of 
every honest-minded person with a drop 
of German blood in his veins. Miss 
Edith Keen tells in her Seven Years at 
the Prussian Court (John Lane Com- 
pany) about an organisation of which 
she had knowledge and whose leaflets of 
instruction she saw which had for its 
purpose the training of men "in the art 
of stirring up sedition and rebellion and 
giving trouble to foreign governments 
generally." The Emperor himself se- 
lected the men, who were ex-army offi- 
cers, to be trained in this deceitful, 
diabolical means of injuring another 
country while professing friendliness. 

Germany's methods in this present 
war and the war itself as having been 
long held in the purpose of the govern- 
ment as a step toward world domination 
are examined by Jacques de Dampierre 
in German Imperialism and Interna- 
tional Law and carried back to the steady 
and insistent teachings of German writ- 
ers of high influence upon statecraft. 



world power and military matters. One 
cannot read the book with its extensive 
quotations and frequent references with- 
out seeing every move of Germany in 
the war and in the events which led 
up to it foreshadowed, vindicated, the- 
oretically proved to be right and just — 
because for the power and glory of the 
empire — ^by these '^ German professors, 
publicists, generals. They prove by their 
own words, do these ardently German 
writers, that the German Government 
was looking forward to a war of con- 
quest and was zealously evolving and 
nourishing the necessary spirit among its 
people for such an enterprise. 

Just what that enterprise was Andre 
Cheradame lays bare in The Pan-Ger- 
man Plot Unmasked (Charles Scribner's 
Sons), where it is shown that the ruling 
powers in Germany have long been con- 
templating and making ready for armed 
aggression that was to end only when it 
should reach its predetermined purpose 
of making Germany the mistress of the 
world. Mr. Cheradame*s temperate and 
well-reasoned book has its every statement 
and argument based upon and proved by 
the writings of Germans themselves. The 
picture he makes of Germany's purpose 
toward the rest of the world is painted 
in colours that were "made • in Ger- 
many." Another revelation of the spirit 
of modern Germany is to be found in 
Gems of German Thought (Doubleday, 
Page and Company), wherein William 
Archer presents without argument or 
comment, except in a brief introduction, 
a compilation of extracts from dozens of 
German writers, professors, journalists, 
pastors, publicists, some of them dated 
before and others since the war began. 
They reveal a state of mind in Germany 
as to the worship of war, justification of 
international perfidy, intrigue, tricky 
faithlessness, glorification of might as 
proving right, national megalomania and 
hatred of other nations, that is stagger- 
ing and nauseating to the non-German 
mind. It must be remembered that this 
is all German testimony against Ger- 
many herself and that those who give it 
show not the faintest conception that 



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it IS utterly damning, that it is worthy 
of anything but the highest praise. 

Such is the spirit and such are the 
aims, as depicted by her own people, of 
the nation with which we are at war. If 
that nation wins, if there should be even 
a compromise peace that would leave in 
control of Germany the powers that have 
fostered and trained that spirit and with 
those aims bedeviled the German people, 
it will mean continued war, war, war, 
until that spirit has dominated the 
world. A German, Fried rich Naumann, 
a member of the Reichstag and a pub- 
licist of high reputation, has told in 
Mittel'Europa (Alfred A. Knopf) what 
Germany purposes to do after she wins 
this war, either in outright fashion or 
by a compromise peace, and his fore- 
shadowing of plans and methods and 
achievements has had warm approval by 
the ruling forces of the empire. He re- 
veals a future Germany that is to be more 
militant than ever, with far more power 
behind her, defiant of the rest of the 
world and setting forth to win supreme 
power over it. 

It is the spirit of Germany that must 
be conquered, that evil spirit that has 
been conjured up by her ruling classes 
and fostered by every means in their 
power. They have made it a national 
spirit with which the rest of the world 
cannot live. Out of Germany's own 
mouth has come the ultimatum, either 
that spirit conquers and moulds the 
world or it must be utterly overcome 
and cast away. It can be conquered 
only in one way, by the complete over- 
throw of the royal dynasty and the es- 
tablishment of a government that can be 
moulded and controlled by the people. 
That is the only possible guarantee that 
another world war, more bloody, more 
horrible, more devastating than this, will 
not ravage the world in another genera- 
tion. Germany's apologists and defend- 
ers are loudly crying out that the Ger- 
man people have the right to choose their 
own government. They have not the 
right to choose a government that is a 
menace to the rest of the world. 

Subservient though the German peo- 



ple seem to be, and as perhaps most of 
them are, to the evil spirit which domi- 
nates them, there is plenty of evidence 
that there are some Germans who have 
not permitted their vision of right and 
justice to be perverted and who would 
welcome the opportunity to form a 
democratic government. Hermann Fer- 
nau, from his refuge in Switzerland, 
sends out his appeal to the German peo- 
ple in favour of The Coming Democ- 
racy (E. P. Dutton and Company) and 
works for the establishment of a repub- 
lic. Christen Collin, Norwegian author 
and professor, tells in The War Against 
War (Macmillan Company) of German 
thinkers known to him who long for 
liberty, justice, equality and peaceful 
aims but who dare not speak aloud. 
Once let the now dominant power in 
Germany be completely conquered and 
cast out and such as these would be free 
to come forth and exercise their in- 
fluence. And in them lies Germany's 
only hope. 

No matter with what bleeding hearts 
and saddened homes and piled up sacri- 
fices, we must fight on, and on, and on, 
with every ounce of our strength, because 
only so can we save our own country 
from early subjugation and help to save 
for the rest of the world the ideals of 
democracy in which we believe. We 
must win, wholly and completely win, 
for only so can we hope that the na- 
tions will evolve some plan of confedera- 
tion that will make impossible a repeti- 
tion of this cataclysm. It will not be 
easy and we, optimistic Americans, have 
only a faint idea of all the difficulties 
that lie in the way, because we know, 
and heretofore have cared, so little about 
the jealousies, envies and suspicions and 
the distrust of peaceful agencies and 
kindly purposes that have for centuries 
controlled the relations between the na- 
tions of Europe. Henry Noel Brails- 
ford in A League of Nations (Macmil- 
lan Company) tells what those difficul- 
ties are and shows how, with the help 
of the United States, they can be over- 
come and the world started upon a new 
and brighter and more hopeful path. 



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Snap-Shots of American Novelists : Cable 



But all that can be no more than a far- 
ofiF dream until the evil spirit that has 
deluged the world with blood has been 
utterly destroyed. And therefore we, in 
America, having set our hand to this 
work, must determine that it shall be 
thoroughly done and that there shall be 
no peace that will leave in the seats of 
power anywhere the ambition to conquer 
and dominate. 

This, then, mothers of America, is 
why we must Godspeed our sons across 
the Atlantic, and work for our arms 
with all our might, because it is only by 
America's help 3iat the war can be won, 
the purpose that caused it struck down, 



the freedom, the hopes, the ideals of our 
own home land assured and all the world 
"made safe for democracy." To that 
end must we not only bear with forti- 
tude whatever burdens and sorrows the 
war may lay upon us and work for its 
siiccess, but we must set our faces sternly 
against the specious arguments and false 
promises of pacifists, socialists, enemy 
emissaries, who would have us welcome 
any peace that would bring about merely 
the early laying down of arms. We 
must determine and cry it from every 
housetop that there shall be no peace 
until Germany casts out her evil 
spirit. 



SNAP-SHOTS OF AMERICAN NOVELISTS 

CABLE 

BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER 

To read your tales 

Is like opening a cedar-box 

Of ante-bellum days, 

A box holding the crinoline and fan 

And the tortoise-shell diary 

With flowers pressed between the leaves 

Belonging to some languid grande dame 

Of Creole New Orleans. 



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THE SOWER WHO REAPED THE SEA 

BY GLENN WARD DRESBACH 

The road was dusty and the grass was grey 

Along the roadside. In the harvest field 

That I was passing heat-waves surged above 

The fallen grain, and butterflies moved there 

Like derelicts of Dreams. An old man stopped 

His reaping and looked up with reddened eyes. 

Dust from the grain had settled on his face 

And sweat had washed innumerable paths 

To nowhere. When he saw me watching him 

A smile broke through the crust, and then he laughed, 

"Go wash your face if you'd make fun o' mine." 

"How is the crop?" I asked. 

He mopped the sweat 
Upon his brow and answered, "None too good. 
I sowed too late in season for the drouth." 
"The same with me," I said. 

"What did you sow?" 
He asked me, looking at my city clothes. 
"Some wild oats and a bag o' Dreams," I said. 
And laughed a little harshly — for the dust. 

He thought awhile, and then his deep voice said, 
"Well, we are better oflE than one I knew — 
The sower who reaped the Sea, the bitter Sea!" 
"Who reaped the Sea?" I asked, in wonder, then. 
"Who reaped the Sea," he said, "the bitter Seal" 

"I have not always lived here," he went on, . 
"In youth I left a place where dikes hold back 
The sea from little valleys cool and green. 
I lived in a small town, and worked with iron 
Beside a man of iron. One day he hurled 
His tools aside — and cursed the town and went 
Out of the shop with hate for everyone ! 

"Later I heard that he had bought a farm 
That covered a small valley near the town. 

"His valley was more favoured than the rest 
That first year, and while crops about us failed 
His ripened well, and gave a golden yield. 
And while the town went hungry he sent oflF 
His harvest to another town that paid 
A price a little higher. People went 



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68 The Sower Who Reaped the Sea 

To him and begged to buy some of his grain. 
*0, no/ he said, 'While I lived in your town 
I had to pay the prices asked of me. 
ril sell where I do best. That settles it.' 

"The next spring found him sowing in his fields. 

The warm days made his little valley green. 

The summer turned it into living gold. 

And on the summer evenings he would sit 

And chuckle as the valley waved at him 

A host of gleaming hands. . . . Again the town 

Was hungry, and the people went to him 

And begged to buy his grain. He laughed at them. 

*Once I was hungry in your cursed town. 

Who ever helped me?' he yelled out at them. 

*A few days and I shall be reaping, fools, 

As I have sowed. Who has a better right?' 

"A great storm broke the dike the very night 

Befbre he was to reap. We heard the Sea 

Rush with a purring madness as it came 

Into the little valley near the town. 

The morning after, all the storm had passed. 

Most all the valley where he had his farm 

Was under dark green water. Just a few 

Tall heads of grain stuck up — and they were dead. 

The water rocked them back and forth. Some folks 

Went down to see the valley. And they found 

The farmer, waist-deep, grasping at the grain. 

He did not see the people. All who saw 

Said he was weeping, and his bitter tears 

Made little splashes on the bitter sea! 

"A woman cried to him, from out the crowd, 

*You have a mighty harvest on your hands. 

You should be happy. You have reaped the Sea !* " 



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Chronicle and Comment 



The opening paper in this month's 
Bookman, "A Legislative Peace," ad- 
vocates an association 
A World of the allied nations in 

Parliament the formation of a 

world parliament, look- 
ing eventually to a further consolidation 
of the nations into a world state. The 
first duty of the world parliament 
which the author, Mr. Thurston, ad- 
vises for immediate establishment, would 
be the enunciation of those eternal prin- 
ciples based on "justice and the nature 
of men and states" by the guidance of 
which the allied nations stand ready to 
legislate peace for the world: no indem- 
nities or annexations, freedom of com- 
merce on the world-highways, the right 
of small nations to an independent ex- 
istence and a fair opportunity for de- 
velopment, a plebiscite among the in- 
habitants of a disputed territory to de- 
termine their own allegiance, the guar- 
antee of justice to racial minorities in 
such provinces, and the gradual regula- 
tion of customs duties on the principle 
of revenue only (no nation would need 
to encourage a diversity of industries to 
the point of "self-sufficiency," and each 
people would eventually engage natu- 
rally and in accordance with economic 
pressure in those pursuits for which their 
environment and temperament make 
them best fitted). With the establish- 
ment of this world parliament and the 
declaration of the principles determining 
international action, the allied armies in 
Europe would at once take on the char- 
acter of an international police engaged 
in subduing lawlessness and defending 
the world's civilisation. And should the 
people in Germany or in any of the Cen- 
tral Powers, at any time before a de- 
cisive defeat, see the wisdom of the 
world federation and the justice and 



equity of the principles upon which the 
rest of the world is ready to legislate 
peace, it can reasonably be hoped that 
they would follow the example of Russia 
and emancipate themselves from their 
military autocracy, voluntarily join the 
world state and subscribe to the prin- 
ciples of the world parliament. Should 
Prussianism continue dominant, the out- 
laws must — and will — be beaten and 
their anti-social activities restrained by 
force so as to maintain the peace and 
welfare of humanity. 



Such a programme may at first con- 
sideration seem an idle, Utopian dream, 

another visionary 
The Next scheme too impracti- 

Logical Step cable to apply to work- 

a-day human nature. 
And before this war the obstacles to 
human progress were breaking down too 
slowly and with too many retrogressions 
to encourage a hope for an early amal- 
gamation of human interests; but with 
the necessity for united action so many 
of the old, conservative, selfish lines have 
been swept aside with hardly a protest 
(witness the passage of the food bill — 
the biggest step in state socialism ever 
taken by our country) — and we are so 
rapidly accustoming ourselves to think 
in terms of international interests that 
an international co-operation to enforce 
the principles of civilisation between 
states in the same manner as these prin- 
ciples are maintained between individ- 
uals and groups within state boundaries 
is no longer an imaginary, impossible 
plan — rather does it force itself upon us 
as the next logical step for the peoples to 
take. As Mr. Thurston in his paper, 
"A Legislated Peace," very justly points 
out: "In former times it would have 



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70 



Chronicle and Comment 



been in order to speak of the immense 
difficulties involved in the organisation 
of such a project, but now it would only 
be a mark of disrespect to our allies. 
The erection of the administrative struc- 
ture of a world state would hardly be 
worth mentioning beside their achieve- 
ments of the last three years. ... An 
international police force does not seem 
so impractical as it did before all the 
races of the world had fought side by 
side for three years, and more in France 
and Flanders. . . . The idea of the 
world state, although its larval, worm- 
like stage has been many centuries 
shorter than that of the art of flying, 
has already reached a more advanced 
stage than the latter could boast of fif- 
teen years ago. Many people are ready 
to believe that it will come within a few 
generations at the most. Not a few 
dare to hope that we are already on the 
verge of it." And if we are on the 
verge of a world state, if the nations 
are sick of the mutual jealousies that 
have made existence as uncertain as that 
of Damocles with Dionysius's sword 
suspended over his head, let America, 
the fighting nation with the least hate, 
take the first practical step in offering 
the programme for a world parliament; 
and just as President Wilson before our 
entry suggested "a league of nations," 
now that we are in the struggle we are 
so much the better prepared to suggest 
an even closer co-operation in a world 
state. 



In response to President Wilson's 
suggestion for a league of nations made 

in his speech before the 
A Moral League to Enforce 

Epoch Peace, at Washington 

a year ago last May, 
Mr. H. N. Brailsford^ an English pub- 
licist and authority on international, re- 
lations, has written a volume, A League 
of Nations, just published in this coun- 
try, in which he reviews intensively the 
problems before the warring nations and 
the methods by which such a league may 
be established. Mr. Brailsford's mind 



still clings to the historical, traditional 
background of national thinking and the 
archaic diplomacy of the "balance of 
power" and for that reason the pro- 
gramme he advances for a combination 
of the nations is mild and full of com- 
promises to the feelings of nationalism 
and jealousy that flourished before the 
war and that have in many minds been 
strengthened by the war. But the sig- 
nificant fact is that he quite recognises 
the limitation of the European view, 
that he himself has to a degree broken 
from it and that his hope for a sane, 
human settlement of the war and for the 
establishment of a peaceful world lies in 
American intervention — not so much in 
military effort, for the United States 
had not entered the conflict when he 
wrote his book, but rather in American 
influence in the adjustment to follow 
hostilities. Mr. Brailsford comments 
with much emphasis upon this country's 
abandonment of its traditional, histori- 
cal isolation, a step that was put into 
concrete expression with President Wil- 
son's offer of America's power to help 
make an "end in the world of the pos- 
sibility of prosperous aggression." It is 
worth while to quote again the funda- 
mental principles that Mr. Wilson laid 
down: 

z. That every people has the right to 
choose the sovereignty under which they 
shall live. 

2. That the small states of the world have 
the right to enjoy the same respect for their 
sovereignty and for their territorial integrity 
that the great and powerful nations expect 
and insist upon. 

3. That the world has the right to be free 
from every disturbance to its peace that has 
its origin in aggression and disregard of the 
rights of peoples and nations. 

The declaration of these principles 
with the offer of American prestige, 
moral and physical, to maintain them 
throughout the world, is called by Mr. 
Brailsford "an epoch in the world's 
moral evolution." 



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71 



The much heralded story of his ex- 
periences in Germany by our former 

Ambassador, Mr. 
Mr. Gerard in James W. Gerard, is 
Germany beginning to appear 

serially, at the time of 
this writing, in the Philadelphia Public 
Ledger under the title, "My Four Years 
in Germany." The early installments 
are interesting and to a degree sensa- 
tional — ^the first article gives both the 
text and a photographic reproduction of 
the cablegram in the Kaiser's own hand- 
writing, written in Mr. Gerard's pres- 
ence and delivered to him for transmis- 
sion to President Wilson, personally, at 
the very opening of the war. Up to now 
it has been withheld from publication, 
but President Wilson's permission to use 
it enables Mr. Gerard to bring a serious 
indictment against the Kaiser over the 
the German raid through Belgium. The 
Kaiser's statement is that Belgian terri- 
tory "had to be violated by Germany on 
strategical grounds, news having been 
received that France was already pre- 
paring to enter Belgium" — an excuse 
that Mr. Gerard fitly characterises as 
weak, adding that there was "not even 
a pretense that there had ever been any 
actual violation of Belgium's frontier by 
the French prior to the German invasion 
of that unfortunate country." In the 
Kaiser's message the word "news" was 
written above the word "knowledge" 
which had been crossed out. Compare 
this sentence with one taken from Von 
Bcthman-HoUwcg's speech before the 
Reichstag delivered just six days pre- 
viously, with every word of which the 
Kaiser was of course familiar: "We 
knew, however, that France was ready 
to invade Belgium." The same flimsy 
excuse — and while the Chancellor felt 
the necessity of elaborating a false ru- 
mour into "knowledge" because of the 
inherent weakness of his position, evi- 
dently the Kaiser with either more dis- 
regard for the moral niceties of his ac- 
tion or with more genuine respect for 
the truth, confined his statement to the 
word "news." Continuing Mr. Ger- 
ard's account, we find more interesting 



anecdotes and side-lights on the events in 
Berlin of those early days, especially of 
course the events affecting American 
citizens in Germany at the time. Every 
reader of Mr. Gerard's work, however, 
cannot help but be struck with the loose 
way it is thrown together — ^its lack of 
continuity and its general jumble of im- 
pressions unillumined by any imaginative 
insight and unenlivened by the personal 
detail of his encounters with the German 
Court and inner circles of German com- 
merce and finance that would have made 
his work so much more vivid and at- 
tractive and even valuable from a his- 
torical point of view. We have learned 
to expect so much from Mr. Gerard as 
an American Representative and as a 
representative of so much that is best in 
American character, that we are selfish 
enough to feel disappointed because he 
does not number among his many quali- 
ties the command of literary technique 
at the disposal of the trained writer. 



Last month we spoke of the "Patience 

Worth" case in connection with her 

. ^, latest novel. The Sorry 

Another «, , ^u ^ -^ 1 

"Ouija Board" ' ' . ^^ 

P J leged, was dictated over 

the ouija board to 
Mrs. John H. Curran, of St. Louis, by 
the spirit calling herself "Patience 
Worth." Now comes an even more in- 
teresting case in the form of a novel, Jap 
Herron, purporting to be dictated in a 
similar manner to Miss Emily Grant 
Hutchings and her collaborator, Mrs. 
Lola V. Hays, both also of St. Louis, 
by no less a personage than Mark 
Twain. The story is unquestionably in 
Mark Twain's style: it is set in his Mis- 
souri country, the conversation is in the 
dialect that appears in Huckleberry 
Finn, and the type of humour recalls the 
enjoyment experienced in reading Inno- 
cents Abroad. From internal evidence 
there is at least no contradiction to the 
theory of its origin. The method fol- 
lowed in taking the dictation over the 
ouija board and the history of the work 
are described by Miss Hutchings in an 



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Chronicle and Comment 



opening section of the book. Quite by 
chance Miss Hutch ings was present at a 
demonstration by Mrs. Hays when 
"Mark Twain" appeared. Later, work- 
ing with Mrs. Hays at the ouija board. 
Miss Hutchings learned from the alleged 
spirit of Mark Twain that he had some 
literary work to give the world and that 
he had been waiting for her to help him. 
Many conversations in sane, natural 
style followed, the ouija board's writings 
being characteristic of Mark Twain as 
we know him in his memoirs and his 
books. After the dictation of the story 
was completed, upon Miss Hutchings*s 
remarking, "It's pretty short for a 
book," came this reply: 

Did you ever know about my prize joke? 
One day I went to church, heard a mis- 
sionary sermon, was carried away — to the 
extent of a hundred dollars. The preacher 
kept talking. I reduced my ante to fifty 
dollars. He talked on. I came down to 
twenty-five, to ten, to five, and after he had 
said all that he had in him, I stole a nickel 
from the basket Reason for yourselves. 
• • • 

Again in a final conversation after the 

completion of the book, Mark Twain is 

reported as saying: 
"Mark 

Twain" on ^^^^^ ^*^* ^^ * ^^^^^ 

the Hereafter understanding some day. 
It will come when the 
earth realises that we must leave it, to live, 
and when it can put itself in touch with the 
heavens that surround it. I have met a 
number of preachers over here who would 
like to undo many things they promulgated 
while they had a whack at sinners. 

There are hardshell Baptists who have a 
happy time meeting their members, to whom 
they preached hell and brimstone. They 
have many things to explain. There is one 
melancholy Presbyterian who frankly stated 
the fact — underscore "fact" — that there were 
infants in hell not an ell long. He has 
cleared out quite a space in hell since he 
woke up. He doesn't rush out to meet his 
congregation. It would create trouble and 
be embarrassing if they looked around for 
the suffering infants. As I said before, there 
is everything to learn, after the shackles of 



earth are thrown aside. I would like to 
write a story about some of these preachers, 
and the mistakes they made, when the doc- 
trines of brinMtone and everlasting punish- 
ment were ladled out as freely to the little 
maid who danced as to the harlot. It 
showed a mind asleep to the undiscovered 
country. 



Spiritualism, 
Good and 
Bad 



Whether the alleged origins of these 
"ouija board" books are true or false, 
their appearance and 
the public's inter- 
est in them furnish a 
curious phenomenon. 
The recent increased and widespread in- 
terest in spiritualism is of course due to 
the war, and when a loss has occurred 
in one's own intimate circle as is the case 
in so many, many thousands of stricken 
homes, the question becomes poignantly 
vital. Sir Oliver Lodge's Raymond in 
which he relates his communications 
with his son who was killed at the front, 
really brought the interest in such mani- 
festations to a head in this country, al- 
though the "Patience Worth" case has 
been before the public for a long time. 
Undoubtedly Sir Oliver and the St 
Louis people connected with "Patience 
Worth" are thoroughly honourable and 
sincere and their statements of fact may 
be relied upon, whether or not we differ 
from them in the field of opinion and 
conclusion. The psychoanalyst is one 
who would so differ. His explanation 
is an activity of the Unconscious of the 
operator of the ouija board or mental 
telepathy as the case may be. 

There is another, and thi§ time quite 
unfortunate, side to this interest in 
spiritualism. During such a time of 
widespread personal bereavement, when 
the question of survival takes on an 
added, sensitive meaning, it is unfortu- 
nate that any of the clap-trap charlatan- 
ism of the popular "seance" of commer- 
cial savour should gain circulation — at 
least we should have only sincere reports 
even though they be proven far from the 
truth. Spirit Intercourse, Its Theory 
and Practice, by J. Hewat McKenzie, 
smacks to us altogether too much of the 



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Chronicle and CommeQt 



73 



vaudeville variety of phenomena to war- 
rant any credence. The section describ- 
ing the location, geography, flora and 
fauna of the hereafter is so preposterous 
as to furnish a certain amusement if one 
can forget the tragic side of such mis- 
leading, hope-destroying accounts. If 
we tolerate, take an interest in, and sup- 
port sincere contributions to the inquiry 
such as Sir Oliver Lodge's and Maeter- 
linck's, we should as effectively discoun- 
tenance the methods of the mountebank 
who tries to commercialise a world- 
tragedy for his own monetary advantage. 
• • • 

Of the effect of the "Patience Worth" 
literary activity upon that part of the lit- 

,• - . erary profession that is 

Unfair ^.,/ i ,. • ^i 

Literary ^^"* strugghng m the 

r^ L^ bonds of humanity, 

Competition Mr. William Trow- 

bridge L^rned has this heart-felt skit in 
Reedy' s Mirror (of St. Louis) : 

Brothers, whose toil tricks out your sorry 
tale. 
Weavers of thought in multi-patterned 
scheme : 
Rise from your revels I^loying cakes and 
ale. 
Seldomer still are things just what they 

seem; 
The literary milk is minus cream. 
Twelve hours a day — nor four — ^your stint 

shall be; 

Who writes with ouija board upon her knee. 

Royal her road, betrod by kings and dukes. 

Behold in Patience Worth — the super-She — 

Our bread and butter swiped by lady 

spooks/ 

Against the classic authors ye prevail — 

Their candle casts no longer such a beam: 
Austen's unread, and Thackeray's turned 
stale; 
Few who withstand the "modern" mode 

and theme. 
Even against the amateurs who teem 
In bush and by-way fortified are ye. 
But heaven save our poor posterity 

From all such fearsome psychologic flukes 
As that no seer could possibly foresee: 
Our bread and butter swiped by lady 
spooks! 



Poor driven drudge, creating by the bale. 
Whose pen once paused when he had writ 
a ream! 
What earthly author would not quake and 
quail — 
Whether he go a-following the gleam. 
Or urge his elbow to "success dc steam" — 
Sole man-power of a fiction factory. 
The gods seem deaf for all his dolourous 
plea; 
Instead, their skies shed curious things de 
luxe, 
Signed "Patience Worth."— Hence take the 
hint from me: 
Our bread and butter swiped by lady 
spooks! 

ENVOI 

Princes, whose plot is held in simple fee. 
You cannot guess the aches and agony, 
The pangs of parturition. Else, gad- 
zooks! 
So might you feel, if you were only we. 
The pangs of parturition. Else, gad- 
Our bread and butter swiped by lady 
spooks! 

• • • 

The aesthetic discovery of America 
may be said to have begun in the great 
Dream City which Chi- 
Aesthetic cago erected to the 

America memory of Christo- 

pher Columbus, and it 
has proceeded with true Elizabethan fer- 
vour ever since. Elsewhere in this issue, 
Mr. Charles Buchanan makes the voy- 
age in a swift seventy-four gun frigate. 
Mrs. Lorinda Munson Bryant's craft, 
American Pictures and Their Painters, is 
surely a shallop — or perhaps even a pin- 
nace. Yet like the modern "rubberneck- 
wagon" it is capacious and designed to 
hold a large multitude of those who are 
taking the journey for the first time. 
Your true voyage of discovery should be 
catholic and undiscriminating, and avoid 
sophistication as the ancient mariners did 
the devil, and Mrs. Bryant violates none 
of these canons. She has unearthed many 
new bits of human interest from her ma- 
terial, she is simply and unfailingly ap- 
preciative, and she has covered the 
ground more thoroughly than her more 



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'THE LAND OF HIS FATHERS/' WILLIAM R. LEIGH. THE SNEDECOR GALLERY, NEW 
YORK. FROM "AMERICAN PICTURES AND THEIR PAINTERS" BY LORINDA 
MUNSON BRYANT 



critical predecessors. William Keith is 
rescued from his isolation in the wilds of 
California, and at the other extreme 
John Marin, Benton, Zorach, Ray, 
Macdonald-Wright, and Russell are 
given a chapter of their own. Between 
these are many of the newer names that 
have seldom found their way between the 
covers of a book : Schofield, Hawthorne, 
Luks, Spencer, Garber, Lever, Mora, 
Seyffert, Pearson, Sloan, Rosen, and a ' 
score of others. Those who are making 
their first voyage will find Mrs. Bryant 



a sympathetic guide; others will value 
her book for its treasure-trove of un- 
hackneyed illustration. 
• • • 
Mr. Isaac F. Marcosson has just re- 
turned from Petrograd, where he wit- 
nessed the opening 
Russia in weeks of the Russian 

Revolution Revolution. In a fore- 

word to his book. The 
^Rebirth of Russia, he writes : 

I found the capital delirious with freedom 
— the people still blinking in the light of the 



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75 



sudden deliverance. I saw the fruits and 
the follies of the new liberty. 

Whatever social and economic excesses 
impeded the era of reconstruction — and no 
one can deny that the path of the infant 
republic is beset with peril — the larger fact 
obtains that the Russian Revolution of 1917 
set up a distinct milepost in all human 
progress. If the war which has reddened 
Europe has achieved no other result, it 
would have been worth its dreadful cost in 
blood and treasure. The liberation of the 
Slav has changed the trend of universal 
thought, and will affect and underlie the 
coming centuries. It wrote on the walls ol 
the world the solemn warning that Autoc- 
racy's day was done. 

• • • 

It is a xnost interesting and valuable 
book that Mr. Marcosson has given us 

— ^not serious history as 
The Man he justly says, but 

Kerensky frankly journalistic, 

and we nfay add that 
it is journalism illumined with a bril- 
liant imagination that makes its reading 
effective and inspiring from cover to 
cover. Of particular interest just at the 
moment is Mr. Marcosson's account of 
the Russian dictator^ Kerensky, a man 
barely thirty-five years of age, and yet 
embodying in his personality the hope of 
Russia, and one of the great hopes of the 
allied cause: 

Kerensky was born in Simbirsk, where his 
father was principal of the local high 
school. He received his first instruction at 
Tashkent, where he completed the high- 
school course, after which he studied law at 
the University of Petrograd. He could not 
afford to embark at once upon the uncer- 
tain sea of a new legal practice, so he be- 
came assistant to a Commissioner of Oaths 
and subsequently Jsecame one of these offi- 
cials himself. 

While at school Kerensky was known for 
his ready speech and fervid oratory, which 
let loose at the slightest provocation. When 
he finally took up his law practice in Petro- 
grad he immediately allied himself with the 
Labour Party, and at once made his pres- 
ence felt. . . . His attitude in the Fourth 



Duma, to which he was elected from the 
Government of Saratoff, heightened the im- 
pression that perhaps this young spread- 
eagle orator who had a speech for every 
occasion, was something of a man after 
all. . . . Although he was a member of the 
Duma, his real interest and association — 
born of every bond of birth and conviction 
— was with the Extremists. When revolution 
broke, he found himself in a curiously anom- 
alous situation. The conservatism of the 
Duma claimed his loyalty, while, on the 
other hand, the fierce and unrestrained radi- 
calism of the Socialists and their allies in 
the Council of Workmen's and Soldiers' 
Delegates appealed to his fervour and his 
imagination. ... It was then that Kerensky 
cast his lot with Reason and with that great 
decision — it was merely part of his destiny 
— he became Russia's Handy Man. . . . How 
Kerensky survived those weeks was a mira- 
cle. His none too robust constitution was 
subjected to a well-nigh incredible strain. 
Day and night he was in almost continuous 
conference — pleading, debating, arguing. 
When he rose to speak in the public assem- 
blies he was the target of bitter verbal at- 
tack; when he went forth into the streets 
his life was in constant danger. He lived 
on his nerves and his indomitable will kept 
him going. 

By what process did he achieve this 
compelling triumph over all obstacles? In 
the answer is his first kinship with Lloyd 
George. It lies in an oratory that is per- 
haps his greatest gift Like the wizard 
Welshman who has stood so often in Brit- 
ain's breach, he speaks with an emotion that 
becomes a sweeping flood of passion. He 
lacks the Lloyd George brilliancy of imagery 
and he has none of that poetry and vision 
which are the birthright of ^'England's Dar- 
ling." But he has a personal appeal that is 
well-nigh irresistible. It is convincing be- 
cause it is sincere. 

• • • 

Vaughan Kester, who made a name 
for himself with The Prodigal Judge, 

has a brother who 
Paul Kcstcr, "also writes." M r . 
Novelist Paul Kester has essayed 

the fiction world with 
a novel dealing with the race problem 



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"BELMONT," MR. KESTER'S PRESENT HOME NEAR ALEXANDRIA^ VIRGINIA 



and called His Own Country, which has 
just been published. His reputation, 
however, heretofore, has been as a dram- 
atist, and perhaps the most successful 
of his plays was IVhen Knighthood IVas 
\n Flower, as produced by Julia Mar- 
lowe. Other plays of his are The Coun- 
tess Roudine, and The Cousin of the 
King. The Kcsters came from the Mid- 
dle West, Paul arriving in this world 
in 1870 at Delaware, Ohio. Later he 
and his talented brother Vaughan and 
his mother moved to the shores of the 
Potomac, and took up the then simple 
life of Tidewater, Virginia. In 1892, 
the literary gravity that centres in New 
York had its effect, and the two brothers 
moved to that city. In 1900, Paul re- 
turned to Virginia, and settled down at 
Woodlawn Mansion, a few miles from 
Mount Vernon, where he lived for the 
next five years. But it was in 1905 
while living for a short time in England 
that he first conceived the plan of His 
Own Country, After an interval of 
study over the problems and conditions 
described in his book, he began his final 
work, and for the last two years has 
devoted himself exclusively to it. 



When asked recently if he did not 
fear that the present absorption in the 

great world war would 
His diminish public interest 

Novel in his novel. His Own 

Country, Mr. Kester 
expressed a decided opinion to the con- 
trary. He said : 

No, I do not think so. The race problem 
is always with us, and as my story deals 
in a serious way with its more serious 
aspects, I do not think it can be untimely. 
New phases of this great problem come up 
from day to day — but the problem itself is 
as old as history — very likely it will remain 
a problem to the end of history. Racial 
differences and the prejudices resulting from 
them have always confronted practical 
statesmen. The old method of dealing with 
them was by conquest, subjugation, or ex- 
termination. Such methods are now obsolete. 
Better ones must be found. Understanding 
must precede intelligent action along any 
lines, and my reason — perhaps I would bet- 
ter say my justification — for writing His 
Oivn Country has been my hope and belief 
that it would bring some little considered 
phases of this menacing and mighty prob- 
lem more clearly before the minds of read- 



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Dreams 



11 



ers who live remote from it, yet whose con- 
sent is necessary, as it should be in a de- 
mocracy, to any adjustment or settUment of 
living conditions where the races are exist- 
ing side by side. 

With the publication of his book, Mr. 
Kester has for the time being given up 
literary work in order to do his bit in 
the national crisis ; and to that end, he is 
now cultivating every tillable foot of his 
country place near Alexandria, Virginia, 
where he and his mother have made their 
home since 191 1. On the opposite page 
is shown a picture of his estate, "Bel- 
mont," giving some hint of the lovely 
country on the Virginia side of the Po- 
tomac. For Alexandria, one of the most 
picturesque of the old-time Virginia 
towns that preserves intact the atmos- 
phere of the old South before the war, 
is almost directly across the river from 
Washington and only a few miles from 
Mount Vernon. During his literary 
work, Mr. Kester has had the advantage 
of the wise and helpful friendship of W. 
D. Howells, his mother's cousin. 




PAUL KESTER, AUTHOR OF "HIS OWN COUN- 
TRY" AND BROTHER OF VAUGHAN KESTER 



DREAMS 

BY FYODOR TYUTCHEV 

Translated from the Russian by Abraham Yarmolinsky 

As ocean's stream begirds the earthly sphere. 
So man's existence is with dreams encircled. 
When night arrives, the element unseen 
In secret tides around our mainland surges. 

Its voice is heard, entreating, rousing, urging ; • 
The magic skiff stands ready for the sail. 
The tide swells fast and bears us with its lilting 
Away, where waves in shoreless darkness roll. 

The heaven's dome, ablaze with starry gloiy, 
Mysteriously issues from the depths, 
And lo I we sail across abysses burning, 
And fire is the wake we leave behind. 



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FRAU COSIMA WAGNER 



BY ARCHIE BELL 



I ASKED a journalist who had inter- 
viewed popes, emperors, kings and the 
most celebrated men in all parts of the 
world: "Who is the greatest woman 
in the world?" He replied: "There 
are two : the Dowager Empress of China 
and Cosima Wagner of Bayreuth, Ba- 
varia." Since he spoke, Hsi Tai-hou has 
gone to her ancestors and her sceptre 
is held by no successor; Frau Cosima is 
still enthroned at Bayreuth, but her 
court is one of ghosts and memories. 
But the favourite daughter of Liszt, 
whom Richard Wagner called "the 
greatest musician of them all," is an un- 
seen queen. She is blind, very feeble, 
and seems only awaiting the final sum- 
mons from earth. Her throne is now 



in a balcony overlooking the reception- 
room at Villa IVahnfried, where Richard 
Wagner spent the happiest days of his 
life and from the windows of which his 
grave is visible in a little plot of garden 
now covered by English ivy. She hears 
the guests arrive and depart and listens 
to their conversation, but Cosima re- 
mains unseen. She has not the strength 
to meet strangers and meeting old 
friends causes too much excitement and 
is invariably followed by the flood of 
tears, which the physicians have said ac- 
counts for her present condition and 
must be avoided. Cosima sits in her 
gallery and the guests come and go ; but 
she might be with the celebrated father 
of whom she seems to be a living image, 




FRAU COSIMA WAGNER 



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Frau Cosima Wagner 



79 



SO far as her presence is revealed to those 
who pay her homage at her beautiful 
villa. 

Cosima's daughter, Eva Wagner 
Chamberlain, and her husband, the Eng- 
lishman, Stewart Houston Chamberlain, 
invited me to Filla fVahnfried just at 
the outbreak of the present war, that I 
might have but a peep at Frau Cosima 
and hear a few details concerning her 




FRANZ LISZT, FATHER OF COSIMA WAGNER. 
NOTE THE FACIAL RESEMBLANCE TO HIS 
DAUGHTER 

that have not found their way into the 
vast literature that has been written con- 
cerning her and her circle. As I was 
entering the tree-bordered avenue that 
leads to the villa, Ferdinand, King of 
Bulgaria was just leaving. As he 
reached the stone steps, he said to Co- 
sima's son-in-law: **I have just heard the 
French language spoken more perfectly 
than ever before in my life." 

"Yes,*' explained Chamberlain, "he 
has conversed with Frau Cosima. He re- 
quested that privilege, and she, hearing 



him, said: *A king does not request — he 
commands.' So he was taken to her bal- 
. cony and they have been together for two 
hours." 

Frau Cosima wanted to go into the 
house-garden and she was assisted in de- 
scending the stairs by her daughter. 

"Ah, the roses are still in bloom, I 
see,*' she said, catching their fragrance. 
"Listen !" A thrush was warbling in the 
Hofgarten that comes to the back fence 
of the Villa. "Take me nearer to him," 
she said and Eva Wagner led her to a 
rustic bench. The thrush continued its 
song. Frau Cosima listened and under- 
stood. In a cracked, ancient voice that 
seemed to come from another world, she 
sang the Bird Song from Siegfried, The 
thrush replied more shrill than before 
and Frau Cosima repeated her song. 
There seemed to be an uncanny under- 
standing between them and both seemed 
to be almost merry in the experience. 

At length the thrush flew away. Frau 
Cosima smiled sadly and gave a signal 
that brought her daughter to her sidie. 
They paused beside a rose bush and the 
old lady reached out her bony Lisztian 
fingers and twisted the stem of a rose. 
They stepped to the ivy plot bordering 
a slab of granite and the widow of Rich- 
ard Wagner, following a custom of many 
years, dropped the daily flower on his 
tomb and her lips murmured, as if she 
breathed a prayer. She came back into 
the house and was led not to her bal- 
cony, but to her apartments, where she 
could retire. It had been an exciting 
day — two hours* animated conversation 
with a king — and her watchful daughter 
was fearful of the result. 

"I knew her for years before I came 
into the family," said Chamberlain, "and 
now as then, she seems to me to be the 
most marvellous woman in all the world. 
Memory? There seems never to have 
been such a memory as hers ! She is able 
to give a verbatim report of a conversa- 
tion that took place twenty, thirty, even 
forty years ago. She seems to forget 
nothing in her vast experience of life. 
Just for example, most of us believe that 
we are fortunate in recalling the titles 



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Frau Cosima Wagner 



of books that we read years ago. Frau 
Cosima not only recalls the titles of the 
principal literature in at least three lan- 
guages, but she recalls the names of the 
principal characters, even in novels, and 
sometimes she has amazed us by repeat- 
ing dialogue and descriptions from books 
that she could not have seen for many 
years. 

"The specialists tell us her blindness 
is caused from excessive weeping. Frau 
Cosima wept almost incessantly for eight 
years after Richard Wagner died, and 
this coupled with her work in the bright 
rays of the limelight at the theatre com- 
pletely ruined her organs of sight. Dur- 
ing her life with Wagner, her only 
thought was the advancement of his 
ideals. Since his death, her life has been 
consecrated to the fulfilment of his great 
desires. 

"The world does not know that when 
Richard Wagner died, he left debts 
amounting to fully three hundred thou- 
sand marks and his assets did not amount 
to more than ten thousand dollars in 
American money. Frau Cosima arose to 
the occasion, and enlisting the services of 
the banker. Von Gross of Munich, she 
undertook the artistic and financial di- 
rection of everything relating to the 
Festspielhaus and the various properties 
of her late husband. She had made a 
vow to do what Richard Wagner had 
aimed to accomplish before his death. 
She worked in the theatre early and late, 
personally superintending the scene- 
painting, the lighting, the costumes, the 
rehearsals of the Flower Maidens in 
Parsifal, teaching the girls how to dance 
as well as to sing, coaching a great prima- 
donna who was to sing Brunhilde. And 
in addition, she was in control of and 
responsible ifor all finances. Frau Cosima 
not only achieved the Wagnerian ideal, 
but she accumulated a large fortune in 
so doing. She has guarded the memory 
of Richard Wagner as Fafner guards the 
Rin^ treasures. 

"Perhaps the world knows or suspects 
as much ; but there is also much that the 
world does not know and which the 
world will not know for many years — 



not until Frau Cosima has been laid in 
her grave. It may surprise many people 
to know that the manuscript of Meine 
Leben, the great Wagnerian autobiog- 
raphy—one of the sublimest human docu- 
ments of modern times — ^is in her hand- 
writing. It was she who composed the 
voluminous record; only she, it appears 
at the time of its composition, had the 
prophetic mind to appreciate its tremen- 
dous importance to readers of the pres- 
ent day. Richard Wagner had kept 
notes and diaries of his earlier life and 
his experiences in various cities and coun- 
tries. It was Frau Cosima who induced 
him to devote a part of each day to re- 
viewing them. Her questions and con- 
versations, her requests for further de- 
tails and information, revived memories 
that otherwise must have been lost to the 
world. Wagner's habit was to prompt 
his memory of dates and persons by re- 
ferring to old note-books and odd bits of 
paper. A professional interviewer, per- 
haps best of all, would appreciate her 
colossal task. His wife sat at her desk 
in the big music room and he paced up 
and down the floor, as he chatted fa- 
miliarly of what now occupies a promi- 
nent place in musical history. She wrote 
down what he said; and then she went 
over her mass of notes and arranged the 
great Autobiography for publication. 

"It is hinted sometimes in the Ameri- 
can and English journals that parts of 
this autobiography were suppressed by 
Frau Cosima. That there were parts of 
it objectionable to her and that she with- 
held these chapters for later publication, 
perhaps following her own death" I said. 

"I am in a position to say to you that 
this is not so. Why should she have had 
a desire to suppress what she had 
written for publication? No, the vol- 
umes as they appear in the original Ger- 
man edition are exact copies of the origi- 
nal manuscript. 

"And is there no ^authorised' Life of 
Cosima Wagner? Has she never au- 
thorised her own biography, her memo- 
ries of her celebrated father, her life as 
the wife of Hans von Buelow, as the 
wife of Richard Wagner, and as the 



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Frau Cosima Wagner 



8i 



great and dominant figure of Bayreuth, 
the acknowledged centre of the musical 
world, as relates to the music-dramas of 
Richard Wagner, both in their inspira- 
tion and performance? 

"If I may digress a little before an- 
swering that question, there is another of 
the wonderful things about Frau Cosima. 
The fiercest limelight of publicity has 
been upon her for many years; but she 
has attempted to avoid it, excepting as it 
was to the glory of her late husband, the 
master-composer. Liszt lies in his tomb 
here at Bayreuth — a tomb designed by 
Frau Cosima*s son — but his daughter's 
one great ambition in life seems to have 
been to maintain the Wagnerian suprem- 
acy. Her life with Wagner was a 
blissful experience in his turbulent ca- 
reer, and since his death, it has been one 
of perpetual adoration of his memory. 
No, there is no Life of Frau Cosima au- 
thorised by her and she wants none. One 
of the first promises she exacted from me, 
before I became a member of the family, 
was that I should refrain from writing 
of her in whatever I might write of 
Wagner and Bayreuth. This was diffi- 
cult, in view of the fact that from the 
time of my arrival in Bayreuth, she was 
the central pivot of the entire organisa- 
tion. 

"But here I recall something else that 
seems to be known only to the privileged 
few. In a chest, which we call 'Cosima's 
Strong Box,* there is something more im- 
portant to the world than an authorised 
Life of her would be, something that is 
of vastly more significance than any of 
the alleged suppressed chapters of Auto- 
biography would be. Wagner recorded 
that he first saw Cosima Liszt at the 
home of her grandmother, the mother of 
Liszt, in Paris. At that time, she was 
little more than a child and he seems to 
have observed her only as the daughter 
of his friend. He has made frequent 
reference to her in his writings, but you 
will recall that Meine Leben comes to 
a close with his permanent establishment 
in Bayreuth and the erection of the Fest- 
spielhaus by the Bavarian king. From 
her first to the last day as his wife, Frau 



Cosima kept a voluminous diary. Of her 
style and of her ability in the selection of 
materials, we have ample opportunity to 
judge, after we know that it was she who 
wrote Wagner's Meine Leben, As I 
said before, Cosima guards this diary 
well, although it was written for publica- 
tion and IS in its final form at the pres- 
ent time. It will not appear in print un- 
til after her death and even then, perhaps 
not for some time. It seems to me, 
knowing the principal facts in the mat- 
ter, that this is likely to prove to be 
one of the literary and musical treas- 
ures not only of our time, but of all 
time." 

A side of Frau Cosima that has been 
overlooked by the world, excepting those 
great musical stars who have gone to her 
for instruction, is that she is the world's 
greatest storehouse of information in re- 
gard to the Wagnerian traditions, which 
are as the law of the Medes and Persians 
in the operatic centres. It is true that 
we often believe that the Shakespearean 
traditions have become almost extinct in 
America, because the knowledge of them 
is possessed by a small group of men and 
women, most of whom are no longer ac- 
tively engaged in theatrical work. The 
Wagnerian traditions intact remain in 
the mind of a feeble and tottering old 
lady. Prior to Richard Wagner's death, 
she had been content and happy to be the 
wife of the great composer. She had 
heard him tell of his aims and ambitions 
and perhaps gave more than a usually 
attentive ear. She was at his side as he 
worked, and as heretofore related, she 
wrote his life's story. But up to the time 
of his death, she concerned herself with 
the affairs of his household, receiving his 
guests, and personally arranging the de- 
tails of the continuous functions at his 
villa, which had already become a place 
of pilgrimage for the great. He gladly 
acknowledged her as his inspiration, and 
she acted as a buffer between him and the 
great public that demanded so much of 
his time and attention, which she appre- 
ciated could be turned to better account. 
She knew of his work, presumably, much 
as the wife of any author knows of the 



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Frau Cosima Wagner 



growth and progress of her husband's 
compositions. 

Here, however, came to view Frau 
Cosima's most amazing qualities. She 
was no longer a young woman when her 
husband died. As the world moves, she 
was ready for retirement from an active 
career. Until that time, she had not 
been actively engaged in the theatre. But 
she went to the great Festspielhaus as 
full-fledged and experienced artistic di- 
rector and impresario. That she could 
master the financial situation was not so 
surprising to all who knew her; but she 
amazed even the stars and directors by 
her peerless knowledge of the technical 
details in connection with the entire 
Wagnerian repertory. I recall that the 
late Lillian Nordica told me that she 
learned more in one hour with Frau 
Cosima, more about the interpretation of 
a Wagnerian role, than she had learned 
in years of rehearsal elsewhere in opera 
houses. Madam Schumann-Heink, who 
is known as "the last of the Old Guard" 
at Bayreuth, gladly acknowledges that 
she learned from Frau Cosima what she 
had been unable to learn elsewhere. The 
same with the celebrated Lohengrin, 
Tristan or Siegfried. He may have sung 
the roles and achieved fame by doing so 
in other cities; but when Frau Cosima 
consented to instruct him, he learned 
much that none of his other instructors 
had known. 

When Cosima was an elderly woman, 
she astounded the assembled stars at a 
Bayreuth rehearsal, by going on the stage 
and teaching the Flower Maidens in 



Parsifal how to dance correctly. It has 
been said by the experts that there is 
not one minutest detail of the long reper- 
tory that she does not know, exactly the 
inflection that should be given each 
phrase, exactly where characters should 
stand on the stage, what should be every 
gesture, costume^ even physical appear- 
ance. 

And how did she know it all? Per- 
haps nobody knows. She believes it all 
came from her love for the Master, 
Richard Wagner. She did not know 
that she knew, until it was required of 
her. First of all, she cherished a mem- 
ory that dominated her thought and ac- 
tion. Her aim was to achieve his ideal. 
Death intervened, so she stepped into ac- 
tion and proved herself the greatest 
Wagnerian director the world has ever 
seen. 

Frau Cosima Wagner of Bayreuth I 
She sits in eternal darkness, and hers is 
a sadness that prompts tears during the 
majority of her waking hours, tears that 
have flowed over her cheeks in a never- 
ending stream for many years. Daugh- 
ter of the greatest pianist, wife of the 
greatest composer, and recipient of the 
world's honours, she has known the 
great joys and the great sorrows of a 
great life. She can smile, but it is not 
human agency that prompts the smile; 
rather it is the song of the thrush 
that lifts the eternal burden. And 
even to the thrush, she speaks in the 
language of Richard Wagner. Perhaps 
all history records^ no more absolute 
devotion. 



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ABOUT RUG BOOKS 



BY H. G. DWIGHT 



II 



I HAVE already intimated, and I am 
ready to repeat, that it is possible to 
go too far in making merry over books 
that never intended to say the last word 
on an extremely complicated subject, 
[f the reader will grant me that it is 
one of the first impulses of man to laugh 
at the misnaming of things and places 
familiar to him, I will grant the reader 
that it is something for an inhabitant of 
New York or Philadelphia to have found 
out where so many of the rugs on his 
floor came from — and that the present 
critic, for his own part, knows very much 
less about technical details than the most 
unreliable of the writers he criticises. 
I will also grant that rugs and words 
are something alike in that they are the 
common property of all mankind, and 
not, like marbles or canvases or other 
products of the more aristocratic arts, 
the guarded possession of a chosen few. 
Consequently the bonds between art 
and industry m these two forms of weav- 
ing are vaguer than in certain other de- 
partments of creative activity. And the 
owner of ten or twenty-five or sixty 
Asiatic rugs needs less courage to make 
a book about them than the possessor 
of a similar number of old Chinese por- 
celains or Italian paintings. Moreover, 
there is not yet, as more than one writer 
of rug books has pointed out, an authori- 
tative literature on the subject. The 
field is still open to whomever will 
take it. 

But It will never be taken in any such 
way as the one hitherto followed by 
American writers. It is no flattering 
proof of what we know of the East and 
its arts, or of the standards of criti- 
cism accepted among us, that publishers 
can go on issuing these more or less ex- 
pensive picture books, improvised out of 



Mr. Mumford and water. Whether we 
regard rugs as works of art or as house- 
hold conveniences, surely they deserve 
a study no less specialised than etchings, 
say, or textiles. The simplest handbook 
of any other art or industry presupposes 
a background of knowledge entirely 
foreign to these books. The fact is that 
not one of their authors possesses the 
equipment to write a satisfactory rug 
book. If I include Mr. Mumford in 
this assertion I must repeat that he 
deserves great credit for his pioneer work 
in an empty field. His followers, how- 
ever, have done practically nothing to 
clarify and add to the data which he 
made available to them. For they per- 
sist in following a method by which it 
is hopeless to arrive at any solid result. 
Their method, one gathers from their 
books, is to sit down with Mr. Mumford 
in one hand and a school geography in 
the other, dictating until they feel the 
need of illumination on some obscure 
point — ^when they seek enlightenment 
from an Armenian rug peddler or from 
the buyer of a department store who has 
been three times to Smyrna, Constanti- 
nople, Tiflis, and Tebriz. Their con- 
ception of "the Orient," at any rate, 
seems not to differ very materially from 
the Persian idea of Firengistan, which 
for the common run of Iranians lumps 
America with Europe and presupposes 
for us all a common history and lan- 
guage. Otherwise how could Mr* EU- 
wanger, for instance, declare that Arabic 
is the lingua franca of the Near East 
(page 122), or how could his colleagues 
one and all trot out their heibelik, 
namazlik, etc., as applicable to all saddle- 
bags, prayer rugs, and so forth? They 
are not to blame for not knowing Arabic, 
Armenian, Greek, Kurdish, Persian, 
Turkish, and the various dialects of 
those languages which are spoken in dif- 



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84 



About Rug Books 



ferent localities. But they are hardly to 
be commended for undertaking to volun- 
teer information about matters of which 
they know little or nothing. It naturally 
makes one distrust everything they have 
to say. And I for one am unable to 
comprehend their childish faith in the 
gentlemen of the trade. 

It is true enough that our knowledge 
and enjoyment of Oriental rugs has been 
gained chiefly in the way of trade, and 
that dealers were long, and perhaps still 
are, our best authorities. But while 
some dealers are educated men, and have 
enjoyed wide experience in centres both 
of rug selling and rug weaving, they do 
not appear to be the ones to whom the 
rug-book people apply. It is unnecessary 
to point out that because a man happens 
to buy or sell rugs, and knows how to 
distinguish many varieties of them, or 
even to speak one or two of the lan- 
guages of their makers, he is not there- 
fore infallible with regard to every as- 
pect of the trade. For the rest, few 
Armenian rug dealers in America ever 
set their foot in any centre of rug weav- 
ing or ever troubled themselves about 
little matters like geography, ethnology, 
orthography, or philology. Few of them, 
either, ever hestitate for an answer. For 
the Oriental point of view is that cour- 
tesy requires a reply to a question, the 
actual truth of the reply being quite a 
secondary matter. Few American buy- 
ers, furthermore, remain in the countries 
they visit long enough to acquire much 
firsthand information. And the pro- 
fessional rug buyer is first and foremost 
a business man, not much more likely 
than his Armenian colleague to ask him- 
self or anyone else questions about the 
broader aspects of the industry in which 
he is engaged. He is, I like to think, 
constitutionally more willing to utter 
the simple phrase, "I don't know." But 
it is as easy for him as for any one else 
to give a particular fact a general appli- 
cation, or to think that "Iran" and 
"Kermanshah" and "Khiva Bokhara" 
are good enough names for certain 
recognised kinds of rugs. 

I have perhaps gone too far about to 



intimate what might have been said in 
a sentence that the writer of a satisfac- 
tory rug book should be a connoisseur 
doubled by an Orientalist. He should 
possess exact and detailed knowledge of 
rugs, their manufacture, the places they 
come from, and the languages of those 
places, to say nothing of their history, 
their religion, and their art; and he 
should have in him enough of a critical 
method to be capable of putting his ma- 
terial into workmanlike form. It would 
be an immense advantage to him, too, if 
he were something of a cartographer! 
I may seem to wander from any prac- 
tical point; but the whole groundwork 
of this art, whose masterpieces bear the 
names of cities, provinces, and tribes, is 
geography. Only on geographical lines 
can any clear idea be gained of the dif- 
ferent schools of rugs, or any founda- 
tion be laid for their history and an 
understanding of their mutual relations. 
A primary essential, then, of a satisfac- 
tory rug book is that it should contain 
reliable maps. In this respect the ex- 
isting books are woefully inadequate. 
Few of them have even approximately 
accurate maps of Western Asia, while 
none of them give detailed charts of the 
different centres of weaving. Their 
classifications suffer accordingly. Most 
of the books make a point, for instance, 
of enumerating the provinces of Persia. 
But they also adhere to trade names, 
however contradictory to fact. And be- 
sides taking unaccountable liberties with 
the map, they further confuse the reader 
by jumping from their original geo- 
graphical, classification to other systems 
based on similarities of weave or design. 
Thus most of them make a distinction 
between a Meshed rug and a Khorasan 
— Meshed being, of course, the chief 
city of that province — while maintaining 
a mysterious silence with regard to other 
weaves of Khorasan. Mr. Mumford, 
again, invents the name Kirmanieh, 
under which he includes not only Ker- 
man, but "Khorasan," Meshed, Herat, 
and Shiraz. And Dr. Lewis transfers 
Kashan to Azerbaizan, further making 
distinctions between Ardelan and East- 



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85 



ern Kurdistan, which do not square with 
the truth. As for the Central Persian 
province of Irak Ajemi, theoretically ex- 
tending from the Elburz range to 
Isfahan, it means to the Persians the 
country around Sultan^bad, the Fera'- 
han-Saruk-Serabend country, which may 
be stretched to include Kashan. This 
comparatively small area produces more 
rugs than any other in Persia, and it is 
by no means inaccessible. Yet over it 
reigns in the rug books a twilight of 
darkest Africa. How, then, until the 
writers of the books know what they are 
talking about, and what perhaps no one 
in the American trade is competent to 
tell them, can they possibly classify with 
accuracy and perspective? 

The problem, I admit, is far from 
simple. But it will never be solved in 
a New York library — or even in the 
saloon of an excursion boat on the Great 
Lakes, where, I am informed, one of the 
most popular of our authors composed 
his magnum opus. Dr. Lewis tells us 
that there are over fifty varieties of 
rugs (page 161). If he had said five 
hundred he would have fallen short of 
the truth. The fact is that there are 
many more kinds of rugs than anyone 
seems to suspect, which partly accounts 
for such absurd trade names as "I ran*' 
and "Kermanshah." Such trade names 
as Mahal, Mushkabad, and Savalan, on 
the other hand, are more legitimate, 
having been invented by modern manu- 
facturers to designate different grades 
of their own Sultanabads. But there 
are undreamed of subtleties even behind 
the most straightforward name. A 
Hamadan, for example, is universally 
described as having a camel border, or 
a camel ground diapered in a lighter 
shade, with what the rug books elegantly 
call a pole medallion. Whereas the ma- 
jority of Hamadans are of quite other 
types. And until 19 12, or thereabouts, 
not one of them came from the town 
of Hamadan. The plain shotori (camel- 
coloured) Hamadan is made in the ad- 
joining district of Mehraban, while the 
diapered or shire-shekeri (syrupy!) is 
from Dargezin. Others are from 



Borchalu, Erzamfud, Famenin, Injelas, 
Kabutraheng, etc., all as truly Hama- 
dans as the camel rugs, because they 
are \^oven in the region of Hamadan and 
marketed here, yet each distinctly recog- 
nisable to the expert by its own local 
characteristics. And every other rug 
centre has its own similar subdivisions, 
most of which remain unknown to the 
books. 

An accurate geographical background 
would give us more light than we now 
possess with regard to the beats of nomad 
tribes, and help us to understand the 
relations between different weaves. And 
it is closely related to the historical back- 
ground. This has hitherto been treated 
in far too summary a manner, with more 
information about the Jews and the 
Egyptians than about the people of the 
colder regions, which are the true habitat 
of the rug. A pretty point, for instance, 
waits to be established as to how much 
the Turks took with them into Asia 
Minor, and how much they found there 
when they arrived. There are resem- 
blances between Anatolian, Caucasian, 
and Turkoman weaves which look like 
landmarks of an old migration. This 
is, of course, a subject excessively diffi- 
cult to approach, by reason of a lack of 
documents. Yet certain documents wait 
to be deciphered, in the shape of his- 
toric rugs in public and private collec- 
tions. These are the old masters of 
the art, which with the exception of 
the Ardebil of South Kensington and 
a few other famous carpets remain 
strangely unknown to most of our ex- 
perts. There are entire books to be 
made out of the museums. And more 
to the point than quoting Scripture and 
the Odyssey, or describing the jewelled 
carpet of Ctesiphon, would be a chapter 
— there is room for a sizable mono- 
graph — on the rugs of pictures. The 
old Dutch and Italian painters could 
furnish out between them a priceless 
collection, which should shed no little 
light on the history of our art. Of this 
Mr. W. A. Hawley, at least, is aware, if 
he has not found time to go so thor- 
oughly into the subject as Bode and Les- 



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About Rug Books 



sing (Oriental Rugs Antique and Mod- 
ern). 

A detail of less importance, but one 
of which a scholarly rug book would 
take cognisance, is that of spelling. There 
is the more excuse, as I have already 
said, for the inconsistencies and inaccu- 
racies in which our authors abound, be- 
cause the Roman alphabet was not in- 
vented to spell the English language 
and because the users of that language 
have not yet fully agreed on how to 
convey its sounds. The case is further 
complicated by the fact that other sharers 
of the Roman alphabet have sounds and 
systems of their own, into which the rug- 
book people, as well as geographers and 
writers of travel, occasionally dip. Hence 
that d in sedjadeh and that / in khatchli, 
which are necessary to the Frenchman 
but superfluous for us. A more serious 
complication is that Oriental languages 
contain sounds for which we have no 
exact equivalent. Then the same name 
may be pronounced differently in differ- 
ent parts of the same country. Nor, 
again, is it always easy to settle on the 
form of a name. To the people of 
Persian Kurdistan the name of their 
capital, known to us as Sehna or Senna^ 
is Senenduch, while Persians and Turks 
speak of it as Sine. The ancient city of 
Gordium, equally well known in carpet 
literature, enjoys a no less wonderful 
variety of titles, of which the Turkish 
is Gyordez and the modern Greek Yor- 
thcs — ^with the th hard. But even when 
we agree on a form we seldom agree how 
to convey the sound of that form to the 
Anglo-Saxon eye and tongue. I think 
it quite hopeless to attempt to do so by 
means of any phonetic system, relying on 
the more purely English combinations, 
like ee, oo, final ie, and all the rest. 
There are too many phonetic systems, 
and too few people understand each 
other's. Moreover, they are rarely con- 
sistent or complete. Mr. Mumford and 
his family, for example, refer to a well- 
known Persian province as Azerbijan. 
This spelling takes for granted, I sup- 
pose, that the reader will pronounce the 
f as in kite, but neglects to consider the 



fact that the other vowels must be ut- 
tered in a way which does not come 
nialtui^al to Axiglo-Saxons. Our only 
hope is to adopt some system like that 
of the Royal Geographical Society, hap- 
pily coming into vogue among our own 
editors and map-makers. If you have 
to learn its conventions in order to be 
able to use it, so do you with any other 
system — English being the patch-work 
language it is. And this system has the 
great merit of being both simple and 
logical. 

Another detail in which the existing 
rug books fall lamentably short is that 
of illustration. And it is the less par- 
donable because so many of them bid for 
favour on the score of their coloured 
plates. As a youthful reader of romance 
I was always deeply offended when a 
heroine expressly described by the au- 
thor as blonde was portrayed by the 
illustrator as a brunette, or when the 
death of the villain was depicted a dozen 
pages before or after the event. In the 
course of years my destiny led me into 
the retreats where these crimes are com- 
mitted, and I have come to understand 
how they take place. But with me, I 
fear, to comprehend is not to pardon. 
As a mature reader of rug bobks I con- 
tinue to be offended by pictures that 
seem to be chosen for airy reasons of 
decoration or availability, that put the 
student to the greatest possible incon- 
venience in comparing them with the 
text, or that fail to do all they can for 
him in the thorny matter of classifica- 
tion. Mr. Hawley does more for his 
reader than any one else, and Dr. Lewis 
is in this respect more satisfactory than 
Mr. Mumford — though I have reason to 
suspect that if Mr. Mumford had been 
allowed to make his later editions more 
than reprints he would have improved 
them in this as in other particulars. But 
no rug book that I have come across 
illustrates all the stock designs, or in- 
serts the illustrations at the right place. 
A small black-and-white, setting forth 
an essential point at the psychological 
moment, is worth more than the most 
elaborate coloured plate stuck in where 



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87 



It IS most convenient for the folder of 
the sheets and most economical for the 
publisher of the book. 

Among other matters worth consid- 
eration, that of the technical processes 
of rug weaving will bear more study 
than has yet been given them. I am told 
by those who know more about such 
things than I do that the variety of 
knots and their spacing between strands 
of the foundation is greater than the 
rug books would lead us to believe, and 
that the last word has not been said 
about the materials used. Although the 
high dry climate of the Asiatic plateau 
is commonly averred to be responsible 
for the sheen and softness of the best 
rugs, none have a greater softness or 
sheen than the old Anatolians, whose 
wool was produced not far from sea 
level. And it is a fact that perhaps the ' 
most perfect rugs made in Persia to-day 
are woven at Kashan out of Australian 
wool, which is finer and silkier than any 
grown in "the Orient." 

As for dyes, ancient and modern, the 
rug-book people beat their breasts a 
little more vehemently than they need. 
They mourn the growing rarity of the 
old vegetable dyes, and they do well. 
They omit to add, however, that as ap- 
palling horrors have been perpetrated 
with vegetable dyes as with mineral. 
Nor are the former so fast as the rug 
books contend. On the contrary, the 
beauty of vegetable dyes is that they 
will fade. The point is that they fade 
evenly, one shade toning into another. 
Whereas aniline dyes fade unevenly. 
The reds have a tendency to retain their 
vigour, while certain other colours event- 
ually disappear. A greater fault is that 
they tend to harden the wool, thereby 
dulling the sheen which is the honour 
of old age. But in Persia and Turkey, 
at all events, aniline dyes are employed 
by no means so generally as the rug- 
book people imagine. Not only are 
there in Persia penalties against their 
importation, and against the exportation 
of rugs in which they are used, but it is 
quite incorrect to say, as Dr. Lewis does 
(pp. 78, 218), that two-thirds or three- 



quarters of modern Turkish rugs arc 
aniline dyed. What neither he nor any 
one else mentions is the growing em- 
ployment of alizerine dyes. These also 
tend to harden the wool, though it re- 
mains for a later century to determine 
the ultimate effect of this process. But 
their greatest fault is the m)rthic 
virtue attributed to the vegetable 
dyes: they will neither fade nor wash 
out. 

Then there is more to be learned than 
we yet know about the colour scales of 
different weaves, and their schemes of 
colour combination. A point in this 
connection which has never been taken 
up is the one of outline. If you look 
into a Persian rug you will discover that 
each figure is bounded by a line of an- 
other colour, sometimes so fine as to be 
almost imperceptible. Nevertheless this 
inconspicuous outline has an extraordi- 
nary effect on the field of colour it en- 
closes. The same tone will have an 
entirely different effect, or shade into 
different directions of the spectrum, ac- 
cording to the tint of its outline. Some 
schools of rugs, like the Bijar, follow 
invariable rules for outlining. A knowl- 
edge of any such law, therefore, would, 
of course, be a help in identification. 

A subject of the utmost complexity, 
and one which awaits a profounder schol- 
arship than has yet dealt with it, is that 
of design. There is much easy talk in 
the rug books about tribal marks and 
symbols, about Greece, Egypt, further 
Asia, and Central America, about palms, 
lotuses, and Trees of Life, to say noth- 
ing of knots of destiny, stars of the 
Medes, shields of David and Solomon, 
and S's of the Fire Worshippers. It 
all tends, however, to excite rather than 
to satisfy our curiosity. When Di*. 
Lewis announces (page 147) that he has 
devoted more consideration to this topic 
than any of his predecessors, he forces 
the critic to add that if one removed 
from his chapter on design everything 
relating to China and India there would 
be little left besides hearsay or guess- 
work. And the point of this criticism 
lies in the fact that he omits from the 



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About Rug Books 



remainder of his book any mention what- 
ever of Indian rugs, while to the subject 
of China he devotes a grand total of six 
pages. 

As our authors study the map, and 
read in Mr. Mumford — whose treat- 
ment of this vast subject, however in- 
adequate, is again more worthy than that 
of his colleagues — of the caravans, the 
conquests, the migrations, which have 
swept back and forth across Asia, it no 
doubt seems highly plausible to them 
that a motive originating in Egypt or 
India should find lodgment in Persia or 
the Caucasus. Nor can any one deny 
that the transfusion of decorative ideas 
is as old as the swastika. The period 
of chinoiserie in European ornament is 
one fanciful chapter of this tendency. I 
myself might write another on the unex- 
pected places where I have found fa- 
miliar details of rugs. I have seen on 
an old Resht embroidery, and above a 
dado of very Chinese-looking tiles in a 
fifteenth-century mosque at Adrianople, 
the identical border of reciprocal trefoils 
which is characteristic of Caucasian 
weaves. I have also seen Bulgarian 
towels ornamented after the fashion of 
Anatolian rugs, to say nothing of Kurd- 
ish and Persian ones. Then many of the 
so-called Rhodian plates, as of the Turk- 
ish tiles of the sixteenth century, bear 
the bent and serrated lance-leaf of the 
mahi (fish) or Herat design. But no 
one who has not been in the East can 
realise the immense conservatism of 
Oriental peoples, their instinctive sus- 
picion of anything foreign, or the ex- 
treme difficulty they still have in com- 
municating with one another. And the 
gentlemen of the rug books incline to 
forget that wool rugs are primarily the 
product of cold climates. One should 
think twice, therefore, before accepting 
the theory that so characteristic a Persian 
design as the spindle, alias the "pole 
medallion" of the rug books, is derived 
from so exotic a plant as the lotus, or 
that a palm could suggest very much 
to a man who never set eyes on one. 
Even the cypress is too much a friend 



of the sun to be very familiar to the 
highlanders of Western Asia. I ques- 
tion^ moreover, whether it is safe to 
identify the latter with the Tree of 
Life, the "sacred Cocos," and other 
mythic vegetables. The Mohammedan 
Tree of Life, or the tuba, as Mr. Mum- 
ford correctly names it, is, of course, an 
authentic specimen of the botany of de- 
sign. I see no reason, however, to jump 
to the conclusion that the weavers of 
Kerman were thinking about it when 
they created their delightful pots of 
flowers. Nor does Mr. Hawley inspire 
me with confidence when he naturalises 
Chinese symbols of connubial happiness 
in Persia. His pair of ducks on an 
animal rug in the Metropolitan Museum 
might perfectly be hens, pigeons, or 
poppinjays. 

As for the so-called Persian pear pat- 
tern, concerning which the rug books 
evolve so many fanciful theories, I know 
no more about it than they. But I do 
know that the Persians call it the bute, 
meaning twig or bush, by which they 
further designate the camel-thorn of 
their bare plains. And I have seen the 
same design on old Indian silks, as in 
photographs of a foliated Egyptian dam- 
ask of the thirteenth or fourteenth cen- 
tury, of a Rhages jar of the thirteenth 
century, and of the tiles of the mosque 
of Sidi Okba in Kairuan, which were 
imported from Bagdad in the ninth cen- 
tury ; while the Turks used to employ a 
similar motive in the form of a cypress 
with a bent top. Only under the most 
serious reserves, therefore, should one 
countenance any legend of crown jewels, 
Hindu rivers, and what not. If the bute 
represents anything at all — on which 
there is no reason to insist — it is prob- 
ably a conventionalisation of some plant 
form, and far more ancient than the 
regalia of so modern a dynasty as that of 
the Hajars. 

In any case, these are questions not to 
be answered by rug peddlers or by gen- 
tlemen who have been three times to 
Tiflis. Having been there myself only 
twice, I say no more! 



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TWO REVIEWS OF THE MONTH 



Walter de 



I 

LA MaRE^S 

Pie"* 



"Peacock 



To FIND a new volume by Mr. Walter 
de la Mare, already known to American 
readers through The Listeners and 
Soriffs of Childhood, is to discover a rare 
and exquisite flower in the sometimes 
unweeded garden of modern poetry. 
Peacock Pie may fairly be called new, 
though 191 2 saw the publication of 
a first edition in England. It did not 
then, however, find its way across the 
ocean, and the illustrations by Mr. 
Heath Robinson give the book, for chil- 
dren at any rate, an added value. 

Mr. de la Mare has never lost his way 
to the land of dreams. "The pleasant 
land of Make-Believe," into which the 
little boy of Stevenson's Child's Garden 
can escape at will, is a region fully ex- 
plored and charted, and the adventures 
to be encountered there are familiar to 
every child. In the opening chapter of 
Peter Ibbetson, du Maurier, with his 
artist's memory, catches the unreason- 
ing raptures of childhood as no other 
writer has ever done. But du Maurier, 
in spite of his talent for light verse, was 
no poet, and his charming little Gogo 
Pasquier is no more so than his creator. 
The childhood world of Peter Ibbetson 
is made of realities, realities transformed 
into things rich and strange, perhaps, but 
still to be seen and known. The child 
who speaks in Mr. de la Mare's poems, 
however, is in Cowley's famous phrase, 
irremediably a poet. If the wonderful 
children of the Yorkshire moors had not 
been cheated of childhood's heritage of 
irresponsibility, one might pictuie them 
tiptoeing through the heather, away 
from the stony bleakness that they called 

•Peacock Pie. By Walter de la Mare. 
Illustrated by Heath Robinson. New York: 
Henry Holt and Company. 



home, to know fellowship with "slim 
Melmillo," who called the birds 

to rest 
In the hollow of her breast. 

But to see Mr. de la Mare's visions, 
childhood needs a background not of 
grey, but of silver. 

Poetry about children is not always 
poetry for children, as all children know 
and most compilers of anthologies forget. 
The arresting beauty of Mr. de la 
Mare's poetry sets the adult reader to 
wondering by what grace that is denied 
to other poets of the first rank he can 
enter so easily into the kingdom of child- 
hood. For in the rich variety of his 
poetrj^ he speaks to all children, not 
merely to a few. The child who will 
listen to nothing more than the jingle 
of rhyme can hear it in singing verse like 
that about "Poor Jim Jay" who 

Got stuck fast 
In yesterday. 

or in the curious music of 

Thousandz of thornz there be 
On the Rozez where gozez 
The Zebra of Zee: 
Sleek, striped, and hairy. 
The steed of the Fairy 
Princess of Zee. 

The child who finds delight in sharing 
the life of whatever walks on four feet 
can have kindly commerce with the 
wisest of donkeys and gentlest of com- 
rades, Nicholas Nye; the child who 
loves wonder-tales about every day do- 
ings can read how the fairy helped the 
old woman who 

Went blackberry picking 
From Weep to Wicking. 

Even the slovv imagination of the dul- 
lard can respond to the verse about the 
poor dunce's complaint of the clock: 



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Two Reviews of the Month 



Why does he still keep ticking? 

Why does his round white face 
Stare at me over the books and ink, 

And mock at my disgrace? 

Again^ it might be the very utterance of 
the wondering little Hartley Coleridge 
that ends "Hide and Seek." 

Hide and seek, say I 
To myself, and step 
Out of the dream of Wake 
Into the dream of Sleep. 

It is perhaps in this understanding of the 
whole of childhood that something of his 
secret lies. Yet even in his poems for 
children he is more than a poet for chil- 
dren. Each year-laden reader who can 
look through the magic casement of Mr. 
de la Mare's verses will see among the 
shadowy figures that flit about the moon- 
silvered lanes a tiny ghost that was once 
himself. 

A haunting consciousness of the un- 
seen pervades the poet's child-world as 
it does that of the older world to which 
The Listeners is addressed. The lovely 
innocence of childhood, like the austere 
purity of the Lady in Comus, hears 
"airy tongues that syllable men's names," 
in all that seems solitude. Outdoors and 
indoors the unknown companionship is 
always there. A thin voice goes 

Piping airs 

Along the grey and crooked walks 

of a haunted house. Under the mistletoe 

Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely. 
Stooped in the still and shadowy air 
Lips unseen, and kissed me there. 

There is "nobody at the window, no- 
body at the door," yet 

A clear still eye 

Peeps closely through the casement as my 
steps go by. 

In some of the poems in the fourscore 
and odd that make up Peacock Pie the 
poet has, it may be admitted, strayed be- 
yond the range of childhood. Here is 
"The Song of Shadows," for example, 
one of a half-dozen or more that might 



perhaps be set to better advantage than 
in a book designed for children. 

Sweep thy faint strings, musician. 

With thy long lean hand, 
Downward the starry tapers burn. 

Sinks soft the waning sand; 
The old hound whimpers couched in sleep. 

The embers smoulder low; 
Across the walls the shadows 

Come, and go. 

Sweep softly thy strings, musician. 

The minutes mount to hours, 
Frost on the windless casement weaves 

A labyrinth of flowers; 
Ghosts linger on the darkening air, 

Hearken at the open door, 
Music hath called them dreaming. 

Home once more. 

The hushed wonder of these lines will 
touch the spirit of children less than that 
of their elders. But Mr. Robinson's 
drawings, closer to the familiar realities 
of life than the poetry he is seeking to 
interpret, have a cheerful certainty 
which will help to lead childish adven- 
turers happily across the threshold of 
Mr. de la Mare's world of magic and 
mystery. And who but Gradgrind him- 
self could be ungrateful for the largesse 
that is content to offer such poems to 
child readers? 

Maude Morrison Frank, 

n 

Henri Barbusse's "Le Feu'' ("The 
Life of a Squad")* 

The sub-title, the "Life of a Squad," 
is somewhat misleading. There is much 
more than the life of a squad in this bril- 
liant and varied narrative, which re- 
cords or divines wide areas of experience. 
It is not a chronicle, still less a diary, 
but combines pictures of men in masses, 
and of individual types^ moralisings, im- 
pressions, observations, episodes, into a 

^ *This review is based on the French edi- 
tion. The book will be published in an Eng- 
lish translation early this fall by E. P. Dut- 
ton and Company, New York. — Editor's 
Note. 



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Two Reviews of the Month 



91 



sort of epic of army life from the point 
of view of a private soldier. There is a 
common point of view among private 
soldiers, says M. Barbusse, despite their 
personal diversity, for under the grind- 
ing of the same harsh conditions they 
come to think alike; and their thoughts 
are very simple. 

"Here there's no looking ahead. You've 
got to live day by day, hour by hour, if you 
can." 

"Sure, old nut-face, got to do what they 
say till they tell us to quit." 

"There you are," yawned Mesnil-Joseph. 

The sun-burned, dirt-stained faces grew 
thoughtful. Drawn from every corner of 
the land and herded at the front, these men 
all have the same feelings: Renouncement 
of all attempt to understand; renouncement 
of all attempt to be themselves; hope of 
escaping death; and determination to live 
as best they can. 

Another point in common is the love 
of grumbling. They grumble at each 
other, at the people at home, at jour- 
nalists, peasants, cooks, slackers, the gov- 
ernment, food, weather, everything, and 
with a fine impartial vivacity; in fact 
they have made an art of it, which they 
pursue for its own sake, the richness and 
vigour of the invective often having no 
relation to the importance of the griev- 
ance. When the cook is ten minutes 
late there is a profane splendour in their 
language that recalls our ancient masters 
and shows how far we have fallen in the 
arts of objurgation. Shakespeare might 
have used these rich repulsive metaphors, 
but nowadays with us the language of 
abuse is so impoverished that the vocabu- 
lary of a strong man swearing in his 
wrath will barely fit a child's vexation. 

They are good and very expressive 
haters but they do not hate the Ger- 
man private soldiers. They think the 
journalists in the rear have lied about 
them. The usual boche, they say, is 
about like the usual poilu; only he is 
the dupe of his superiors. That sort of 
training might turn any man into a Ger- 
man; it might even turn a dog. The 
poilus are quite large-minded on this 



subject. But on the subject of the Ger- 
man officers they admit of no argument. 
They are "a special kind of vermin," 
the German officers, "the microbes of the 
war"— 

I saw one of 'em once, a prisoner. The 
putrid lump! A Prussian colonel, with a 
coronet and gold blazon, looking down at 
everyone from the top of his stiff collar. 
"Wait, old bird," said I, "I'll make you 
rattle, I will." I took my time, and got my 
range behind him, and I landed a kick with 
all my might He fell down flat, half 
strangled. 

Strangled ? 

Yes, with rage when he learned what had 
happened, to wit, that he an officer and 
noble had had his hinder parts kicked in 
by the hob-nailed shoe of a simple' poilu. 
He went off letting out yells like a woman, 
and gesticulating like an epileptic 

And the German officers are not the 
only microbes of war. The men for 
whom M. Barbusse speaks hate every- 
body and everything that brought on the 
war, governments, classes, dogmas, in- 
fluences of whatever sort and in what- 
ever country which contributed to the 
result : 

Against you and the general good — and 
you are the general good — ^there are the 
brandishers of swords, the money-getters, 
gamblers, financiers, big and little traffickers, 
buttressed in their banks or in their houses, 
their heads stuffed tight with dead doctrines 
and shut up like strong-boxes. 

And the silly folk who get drunk on 
the noise of drum and fife; and those 
old troglodytes who swtear by tradition 
that every bad thing must continue to 
be; and the priests with their laudanum 
of kingdom come; and the historians^ 
economists, and the whole tribe of mud- 
dle-headed theorists who proclaim the 
antagonism of race and turn patriotism 
into a homicidal insanity. 

The short view is the sickness of the 
human spirit The learned are a breed of 
ignoramuses who lose sight of the sim- 
plicity of things, extinguish it, blacken it 



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Two Reviews of the Month 



with formulas and details. You learn from 
books the little things, not the big ones. 

As to morality, they denature it. How 
many crimes have they turned into virtues, 
by a single word, calling them "national." 
And truth, they disfigure it. For the eternal 
verity they substitute each one his national 
verity. So many peoples, so many truths, 
each twisting, falsifying the truth. These 
are the creatures with their childish, con- 
temptible discussions that you hear above 
you whining: "It was not I who began it 
It was you." "No, it was not I : it was you." 
And so on — "You be^gan it." "No, you began 
it" — babble that keeps the wound of the 
world open for all time, because the people 
who do the talking are not the ones who 
are concerned and because the talkers have 
no real wish to put an end to it. All those 
folk who cannot bring and do not wish to 



bring peace on earth; all those folk who 
hitch themselves for one cause or another 
to the old order of things and find reasons 
for that old order or trump them up; they 
are your enemies. Just as much your ene- 
mies as the German soldiers who are lying 
about you — poor dupes shamefully deceived 
and brutalised — domestic animals. They 
are your enemies no matter where they were 
born, or how they pronounce their names, 
or what language they do their lying in. 
Look at them in the sky and on the earth; 
look at them everywhere. See them just 
once, for what they are, and remember it 
forever ! 

"They will tell you," groaned a man on 
his knees, digging the earth with his hands 
and shaking his shoulders like a dog, " 'My 
friend you're a hero.' I don't like to have 
them tell me that." 

Frank Moore Colby, 



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SOME STORIES OF THE MONTH* 

BY H. W. BOYNTON 



Only last year Professor W. L. Phelps 
said, in The Bookman, "Every 
line in the books of Miss Wil- 
kins reads as though it had come 
out of the author's actual experi- 
ence. She is primarily truthful, and 
never prepares an artificial effect — never 
sacrifices reality for sensation." Even 
at that time there were bits of Mrs. 
Freeman's work which must have 
escaped Professor Phelps's eye. She had 
made several clumsy and flimsy experi- 
ments in the direction of romance of the 
pretty sort. The attempt to harness her 
staid and penetrating art to the skittish 
fancy of Miss Florence Morse Kingsley 
has been singularly unlucky. An Alabas- 
ter Box is a figment whose effect, such 
as it is, is purely artificial. Mrs. Free- 
man's part in the enterprise would seem 
to have been to overlay the unstable fluff 
of the narrative with a stout fabric of 
New England dialect. The story itself 
has been painfully put together. You 
may fashion a pillow out of the silk of 
milkweed, if you have patience to gather 
and clean and pack, but it will be 
a slimpsy affair in the end, and none the 
better for a cover of the heaviest tick- 
ing. The truth is there is little life or 
nature in this book, little truthfulness 

♦An Alabaster Box. By Mary Wilkins 
Freeman and Florence Morse Kingsley. New 
York: D. Appleton and Company. 

Summer. By Edith Wharton. New York: 
D. Appleton and Company. 

Helen of Four Gates. By an Ex-Mill- 
Girl. New York: E. P. Dutton and Com- 
pany. 

Bromley Neighborhood. By Alice Brown. 
New York: The Macmillan Company. 

The Joyful Years. By F. T. Wawn. New 
York: E. P. Dutton and Company. 

The Empty House. New York: The Mac- 
millan Company. 

The Inner Door. By Alan Sullivan. New 
York: The Century Company. 

The Long Lane's Turning. By Hallic 
Erminie Rives. New York: Dodd, Mead and 
Company. 



and not a great deal of amusement. It 
is pretty frankly fabricated^ "built 
around" a situation. A country banker 
betrays his trust and ruins his clients, 
and is sent to jail. There is nothing 
novel in this, for, if we are to believe the 
story-tellers, most American country 
bankers are frauds and embezzlers. 
The fresh situation consists in the return 
of the banker's daughter to "Brookville," 
and her attempts by means of charity and 
public service of all kinds, to make atone- 
ment and restitution. She is not under 
her own name, and is making fair head- 
way, when the father's release from 
prison and return to the village gives 
away the truth. Then comes the test 
for the girl's two wooers, which the 
feeble and snobbish young parson fails 
to pass, and the honest son of the soil 
passes with ease. The jail-bird father 
takes himself off^ and the village rises 
and calls the damsel blessed, and all is 
well. The situation is good enough, the 
plot might be vitalised, but there is no 
creative breath here, no sincere character- 
isation. It is a pity that Mrs. Freeman 
should lend her name and her left hand 
to work so shallow and perfunctory as 
this. 

Her own New England, the scene of 
the early tales, is an affair of black and 
white, of strong crude forces and repres- 
sions. Such is the New England of 
Mrs. Wharton in Ethan Frome and 
Summer. But while Miss Wilkins's 
voice had always a. certain raw tang of 
the native, altogether lacked grace and 
flexibility, was the voice of rustic New 
England, Mrs. Wharton has had the 
task of subduing her rich and varied and 
worldly instrument to its provincial 
theme. She has succeeded: Summer 
shows all the virtue of her style and 
none of its weakness. Here is no rou- 



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Some Stories of the Month 



tine elegance, no languor of disillusion, 
no bite of deliberate satire. As in Ethan 
Frome, this writer who has come peril- 
ously near being the idol of snobs shows 
herself as an interpreter of life in its ele- 
ments, stripped of the habits and inhibi- 
tions of the polite world. The story 
lacks the tragic completeness of the 
earlier one, has indeed a species of happy 
ending, — an ending, at worst, of pathos 
not without hope. The scene is the 
New England village of North Dor- 
mer, once as good as its neighbours, but 
now deserted and decaying in its corner 
among the hills. It is vignetted in a 
few sentences at the beginning: "A lit- 
tle wind moved among the round white 
clouds on the shoulders of the hills, driv- 
ing their shadows across the fields and 
down the grassy road that takes the name 
of street when it passes through North 
Dormer. The place lies high and in the 
open, and lacks the lavish shade of the 
more protected New England villages. 
The clump of weeping willows about the 
duck pond, and the Norway spruces in 
front of the Hatchard gate, cast almost 
the only roadside shadow between law- 
yer Royairs house and the point where, 
at the other end of the village, the road 
rises above the church and skirts the 
black hemlock wall enclosing the ceme- 
tery." The Hatchards are the great 
people of the place, with an elderly 
spinster still solvent and in residence, 
and a Memorial Library bearing musty 
witness to that distinguished and now 
extinguished author, Honorius Hatch- 
ard, who had hobnobbed with Irving 
and Halleck, back in the forties. An- 
other old family are the Royalls. Their 
present representative is the middle-aged 
lawyer who, after showing promise else- 
where, has returned to North Dormer 
while still a young man, for the apparent 
purpose of going to seed there at his 
leisure. Above the village, though at 
distance — fastness of a strange com- 
munity of outlaws and degenerates — 
towers the craggy mountain from which, 
years back. Lawyer Royall has rescued a 
child. As Charity Royall she grows up 
in his household, and after bis wife's 



death becomes its unchallenged ruler. 
Her little liking for Royall himself he 
has destroyed by making, in his "lone- 
someness," a single false step toward 
her. Her own lonely lot in unyouthful 
North Dormer is lightened only by the 
vague dreams of girlhood. Then the 
fairy prince comes in the person of a 
young architect from the city whom cer- 
tain local relics of fine building have at- 
tracted to the neighbourhood, and whom 
a swift romance with the girl Charity 
holds there. She becomes his mistress, he 
deserts her in her "trouble," she turns 
desperately to the haunt of her people, 
"the Mountain"; and is rescued for a 
second time and finally by Lawyer 
Royall. In her marriage with the aging 
man whom she has scorned there is, we 
really believe, some chance of happiness, 
or at least content. Young love is dead, 
but old love is ready to creep into its 
place. Mrs. Wharton has often been 
accused of bitterness; let her critics note 
that the whole effect of this powerful 
story hangs upon our recognition of the 
power of simple human goodness — not 
"virtuousness," but faithful, unselfish 
devotion of one sort or another — to make 
life worth living. 

Until the end itself, Summer has 
seemed to be moving, as Ethan Frome 
moved, toward some grim catastrophe. 
So with Helen of Four Gates, a dour 
and terrible tale of rustic England, the 
England of Hardy and of Phillpotts. 
We look for some such crash of fate or 
passion in the outcome, as, for example, 
in that of The Whirlwind of the latter 
chronicler. It does not come. At the 
eleventh hour, through the tiniest of 
loop-holes, escape is achieved. But until 
that hour it is a cruel tale, gloomy and 
haunting as Wuthering Heights, or, 
let us say, The House with the Green 
Shutters, Four Gates is a North of 
England village, narrow, self-centred, 
bound by its own conventions. The 
strange figures in it are old Abel Mason, 
a well-to-do farmer of bitter nature and 
violent moods, and his daughter. Mason 
confesses to a drop of madness in his 
veins, and predicts that the girl who 



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Some Stories of the Month 



95 



bears his name will show it in time. In 
reality she is not his daughter, but the 
child of the woman who has thrown 
him over for another man. In vengeance 
the old man lives for the sake of tortur- 
ing this child, whom everybody believes 
to be his own. She has given her pas- 
sionate heart to Martin Scott, Mason's 
"hired man," as they say in New Eng- 
land — an honest fellow, but less coura- 
geous than she. Over them both Mason 
dangles the sword of Helen's hereditary 
madness. Finally Martin's courage gives 
out, and he leaves Four Gates and 
Helen. In despair the girl permits her- 
self to be married to an ex-tramp whom 
Mason has hired for the purpose, and 
the advanced stages of her torture begin. 
Presently she finds herself with child, 
is filled with despair and* loathing, but 
in the end determines to see it through, 
to meet whatever fate may have in store. 
Then comes the return of Martin Scott, 
a broken man, and her dead heart rises 
to welcome him. But it all seems black 
and hopeless; that the child of her hate 
is born dead does not release her, Martin 
himself is on the verge of death. Then 
the very might of her love wrests him 
back. They determine to take their hour 
of happiness and to meet the inevitable 
end together, when fate or Providence 
turns kind, and they are enabled to sal- 
vage some years, at least, of happiness, 
from what has seemed the total wreck 
of their lives. Here, as in Summer, 
the rising inflection at the end of the 
tale is a heartening thing for the reader 
who has braced himself for unmitigated 
tragedy. If there is artifice in it, that 
IS a kindly artifice such as, we must 
recognise, the Powers themselves do not 
disdain to employ on fit occasion. Na- 
ture does not always work by rule of 
the average probabilities. 

For Miss Brown rural New England 
is a scene of more varied colour and 
contour than for Mrs. Freeman or Mrs. 
Wharton. And with all her fidelity to 
detail she is essentially romantic. The 
neighbours of Bromley are Yankee to 
the bone, but in the end they have to 



do what their literary ^onsor's warm 
fancy demands of them. Bromley was 
"a country neighbourhood, part of a 
New England township of that name, 
where everybody took back to English 
ancestry and clung with unthinking 
tenacity to old habits of thought." A 
few old families had always been in the 
ascendant, among them the Neales and 
the Greenes. Now, there is Thomas 
Neale, the prosperous farmer, a man 
used to having his own way, a martinet 
in his relation to his wife and his two 
sons. He covets the little acreage that 
several generations back had been care- 
lessly cut from the Neale property by 
a too-generous Neale ancestor and given 
to the Brocks. Coveting it, he will stick 
at no means of getting it, down to bully- 
ing the new-made widow of the latest 
of the Brocks. Ardelia Brock is a silly 
woman, and might' have been easy prey 
for Neale but for her daughter Ellen, 
who is of sterner stuff. Secretly on their 
side are Neale's wife Mary, a woman of 
heroic mould, and his son Hugh, who 
loves the virginal Ellen. The sordid 
motive of "property" is to the fore, it 
will be observed, as the motive which 
governs only less generally in the New 
England than in the Old. It dominates 
also in the relation of the brothers 
Greene, the elder of whom has defrauded 
the younger of his heritage ; and, by way 
of Aunt Tab and her wood-lot, it brings 
about the physical downfall of Neale 
himself. Thomas Neale, to tell the 
truth, is a figure almost as inhumanly 
consistent as Abel Mason in Helen of 
Four Gates. Mr. Phillpotts would 
have tempered both of them, brought 
them within range of our sympathy. 
Neale's authority is based upon a colossal 
pettiness. He turns his oldest son out 
of his house for walking home from a 
dance with the inhibited Ellen. A man 
sore-stricken in body, he will not speak 
for months, even to his wife, because his 
sister has sold her own property without 
his consent. He is the type of Yankee 
who systematically bites off his own nose 
to spite his face. We believe in him 
as a type; as a man he is nothing but a 



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bogey, since Miss Brown does not per- 
mit us to find anything likable or toler- 
able in him. It is hinted, to be sure, 
that there is the seed of something pure 
and generous in his relation to his wife 
which may in time grow to respectable 
maturity, but we have little hope of him. 
Mary Neale is the really strong char- 
acter of the book, a woman of heroic 
gentleness, a Ceres whose bounty is in- 
exhaustible. Ellen Brock, too, is a fine 
portrait of proud maidenhood. The 
story in which these people are involved 
has too conscious a "plot," but that 
seems the fate of Miss Brown's extended 
novels. For the rest, this is a book 
animated with zeal for the defence of 
the world against tyranny^ Miss Brown 
has a hearty scorn for our official neu- 
trality and our general indifference dur- 
ing the early years of the war. She 
represents her Bromley as a community 
of dullards and slackers, lighted by the 
torch of one or two prophets who really 
see what is going on in the world, and 
what Bromley's part in it should be: 
*'Since the war began," cries old Sally 
Wheeler, "I really believe IVe seen up 
into the stars, and down through the 
middle of the earth. And the thing IVe 
seen clearest is the sacredness of the soil 
you were born on and the duty you owe 
the dead that worked on it and died 
for it. You can't be unfaithful. You 
can't. ... I believe there's something 
over and above what we call America, 
and that they can't down. The politi- 
cian that only wants to get votes out of 
her — he can't down her. And these men 
round here that don't know there's a 
war going on till you scream it at 'em — 
they can't down her. And when the 
minute comes she'll get up and — my 
God, Ellen Brock! she'll take the 
sword." 

We are brought into the trenches be- 
fore we are done with The Joyful 
Years, and trench life is pictured viv- 
idly enough; but it is, after all, chiefly 
a convenience for rounding off what is 
essentially an old-fashioned love story. 
There are only three persons of much 



account in the narrative: Cynthia 
Bremntr, young and fair; Shaun James, 
middle-aged novelist, one of the poor 
but distinguished sort, and Peter Mid- 
dleton, well born but also poor. Cyn- 
thia's father and mother, Sir Everard 
and Lady Bremner, are the disdainful 
British aristocrats of immemorial story. 
They suspect Shaun James, for whom 
Cynthia has sworn friendship, of wish- 
ing to marry her, and he is, of course, 
ineligible. Therefore, with the well- 
known fatuousness of their kind, they 
thrust young Peter upon her by way of 
diversion, believing that his youth and 
impecuniousness make him absolutely 
"safe" as a companion for any daughter 
of theirs. But young love laughs once 
more at bank accounts, and the upshot 
is a runaway 'marriage, abetted by the 
self-sacrificing Shaun. Some play is 
made with the modern motive of the 
young girl's revolt against the "eco- 
nomic" slavery to which she is held by 
her Victorian parents, but the fact that 
she has no cheque-book or latch-key of 
her own appears to have small actual 
bearing upon the story. In due season 
the proud Sir Everard, again true to 
form, forgives the errant couple, con- 
tenting himself with making his daugh- 
ter a mean allowance. Peter, however, 
has meanwhile budded forth into a 
promising caricaturist, and the way seems 
fairly clear for the young couple when 
the war breaks out. Shaun at once 
enlists and , begs Peter, for Cynthia's 
sake, to consider him his representative 
at the front. This will not do for Peter, 
who, though he hates war and believes 
himself a coward, must play the game 
for England. The trenches show him 
as brave as his comrades, and presently 
relinquish him, not too seriously crip- 
pled, to the arms of Cynthia. The tale 
is told in very leisurely and feminine 
fashion, and its endless descriptions are 
touched with a sort of mild eroticism; 
it seems that we shall never get to the 
end of the heroine's physical charms. 

The Empty House is a book of 
more serious character, a novel of pur- 



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pose, or, as we now say, of ideas. . Its 
problem is the difficult one of woman^s 
direct responsibility to the race, of the 
right relation of wifehood and mother- 
hood. The concrete instance is pre- 
sented with vigour and sincerity. A girl 
grows up facing an awful example of 
what marriage may bring to a woman. 
Her father boasts of being "an old- 
fashioned man,, with old-fashioned ideas 
about a family." In spite of warnings, 
he holds his wife, year after year, to the 
business of child-bearing. When she 
finally dies at her post, the women, and 
his little daughter, who has overheard 
the womens* talk, hold him responsible 
as her murderer. The girl lives in the 
fear of marriage, and resists the love 
which leads to marriage. When she 
finally succumbs it is with the explicit 
understanding that there are to be no 
children. After marriage neither she 
nor her husband is awakened to any 
desire for children, and for a time they 
are sufficient to each other. Then the 
man begins to be absorbed in his job, 
as men will be, and the wife, having 
no job, is discontented. Presently, dot- 
ing upon him as she does, she begins to 
be ambitious for him and to interfere, 
openly and secretly, with the business 
of his life. He must succeed, he must 
show himself the peer of other men of 
their set. Pitting her will and cunning 
against his will and enthusiasm for hon- 
est work, she contrives to put him under 
an intolerable strain which in the end 
kills him. Long before the end she has 
heard the truth, unbelieving, from the 
lips of a German scientist who sums up 
the disease of American women as a dis- 
ease not of sexlessness, but of unsatisfied 
sex. In refusing children they perpe- 
trate "a crime against nature, a biologic 
sin," From wishing to love without 
consequence or fulfilment, this type of 
woman is condemned to love more al- 
ways, to be destroyed by loving, and, 
very often, to destroy her mate. "The 
more she has not children," growls the 
great man, "the more by nature she 
must have him. He is her necessity — 
her life. . . . She must drive him; she 



must love and have his love — each ac- 
cording to her nature. By extravagance, 
by lightness, by interference, by too much 
anxiousness of love. Each according to 
her nature — but all for sex, for love. 
And if for one man only, then so much 
the more dangerous. She seeks, she 
drives ; often, many times, she drives him 
— for love. She kills him, often in his 
business, literally — as by her hands." 
The woman does not believe it ; but it is 
all happening to her, and the end is 
not spared. And there is nothing left 
for her, since she has put all her eggs 
in one basket and smashed them all at 
a stroke, as if deliberately. A story with 
an idea, a moral if you like, and yet not 
a tract, for these people have the breath 
of life in them, are real as the action is 
real, however slightly both may be out- 
lined. 

Among current problems which the 
story-tellers are trying to interpret, the 
case, or the pickle, of capital and labour 
is now a familiar one. Several recent 
novels may be recalled which have dealt 
more or less hopefully with this theme. 
The trouble with most of them is that 
they attempt to solve the problem by 
means of some infallible key or spe- 
cific. This is not true of The Inner 
Door, It is a book of spiritual quality, 
an interpretation, not a solution. Its 
spirit is embodied in the devoted and 
mystical Sohmer, who sees so far beyond 
the scene of the moment, and aspires to 
something so much higher for "his peo- 
ple," the workers, than any improvement 
in hours or wages. A great rubber fac- 
tory in the Canadian town of "Brunton" 
is willed by its owner to his daughter 
Sylvia, who has just reached woman- 
hood, with the instructions, "Keep the 
wheels turning, and hang on to Pethick." 
Pethick is the manager, a man who has 
risen from the ranks, but whose whole 
strength and soul have long been given 
to increasing the profits of the business 
at all costs. Sylvia is already betrothed 
to brilliant young Kenneth Landon. She 
is, however, to spend a year abroad be- 
fore their marriage. Kenneth wishes to 



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Some Stories of the Month 



win his own spurs in the meanwhile, 
that he may not be merely the amiable 
husband of a rich woman. Immediately 
after her departure circumstances change 
his plans^ and he enters Sylvia's factory 
as a common workman, under an as- 
sumed name and without her knowl- 
edge. Chance brings him into the 
Sohmer household, and here he falls 
under the influence not only of the be- 
nignant Dane, but of his daughter, who 
has inherited his singleness of mind and 
greatness of soul. In the factory Ken- 
neth sees at once that everything is or- 
dered for the profit of the owners at 
the workers* expense. There are mal- 
contents, some of them moved by selfish 
considerations, a few, like Sohmer, by 
their desire for justice to all men. The 
manager, Pethick, is ruthless in his ex- 
pedients for speeding up the output with- 
out increasing the outlay of the mill. 
The issue is one of those indeterminate 
clashes of force which result in a mo- 
mentary readjustment through compro- 
mise. It is not reached till after the 
martyrdom of Sohmer. He himself has 
looked for no sudden triumph of right: 
"This thing we both want," he says, "is 
like a tree, not a volcano. One cannot 
in any way see it grow, but it grows 
nevertheless. And so in it the work of 
any one man is not to be found by itself, 
but all men satisfied must be to have it 
seem that their work is lost." So he 
goes out of life, quietly and greatly as 
he has lived, feeling his effort not in 
vain. Meanwhile a bond has grown be- 
tween Kenneth and Greta Sohmer; in 
the end it is revealed to Kenneth that 
she and not the worldly and shallow 
Sylvia is his real mate, the companion 
of his future adventures in the service 
of his kind. There is nobility in this 
book, with its vision of a future for 
humanity beyond our turmoil. "To- 
day the world is tired," says Sohmer, 
with his high simplicity, "and our rest 
is not rest at all, but for another strug- 
gle only a preparation. But some day 
there will come the one thi.-3 that the 



world has not yet tried, and yet waiting 
for it has been so long. . . . God." 

Drink is the theme underlying the 
somewhat artificial structure of The 
Long Lane's Turning. It is a story 
of romantic contrivance based upon the 
working out of a preconceived idea. If 
it were crudely done, one might dismiss 
it as a tract of melodramatic colour. 
That astounding coincidence which 
brings together in a far place Harry 
Sevier, and the former client whom he 
has wronged, and the girl Echo, and the 
villain Craig, demands an unquestioning 
credulity of which the higher art of 
fiction and of drama has no need. Nor 
is it safe to scrutinise the possibility of 
the culminating scene, in which the 
masked Sevier converses undetected with 
men who are his own intimates and 
supporters. This, in short, must be 
taken as a romance — an arrangement 
rather than an interpretation of life. Its 
substance need not be rehearsed here. 
The action involves (involves overmuch 
at times!) a number of interesting per- 
sons, and whatever flimsiness may be 
discerned in the plot, there is none in 
the style. Here also we have a sum- 
ming up of the matter from the lips of 
the central figure, Sevier, the jail-bird 
who is nevertheless to be governor: 
"There was an Eye that watched and a 
Hand that overruled," he said slowly. 
"Even the evil and the hatred — the temp- 
tation, the sin and the pain— ;the penalty 
— it overruled them all. Drink made 
the man who shot Craig a criminal — 
yet but for that burglary you might now 
be Craig's wife! Drink sent me to 
Craig*s house that night — yet but for 
that journey I could not have saved you. 
Drink closed the prison door on me, but 
only there — I know it now!— could I 
have mastered it! And if I have won 
in this campaign and if I sit — ^with you, 
my dailing! — in the Mansion on the 
Hill, it is because of what I learned 
within these walls — the knowledge of 
what drink has done to men !" 



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THE BOOKMAN'S MAIL BAG 



Galveston, Tex. 

Dear Author of "The Inevitable 
Adventure" :* 

To-day I read your story. Sitting in 
a corner of the public library (for those 
who are forever buying postage stamps 
cannot be forever buying magazines) I 
read. And the tears rolled down my 
cheeks, and I made a great and disturb- 
ing noise snuffling them up, and finally 
gave myself over to the luxury of them 
and that pain which is the most heart- 
breaking of all pains — the overpowering 
longing for the unattainable. 

For I have heard the call that the 
City sends to its children, wherever they 
may be. It is shouted to me between 
the covers of every magazine that I pick 
up ; the ocean argues it, and beckons, and 
challenges. The whistle of a train in 
the dead of night is like a sudden, 
imperative summon — and I can never 
answer the summon. New York is not 
for me. 

Ah, but I know New York. And 
love it — and glory in it. It is my city. 
Distance cannot keep me from belonging. 
A family that is separated is still a 
family. A mere matter of some thou- 
sand intervening, inconvenient miles 
cannot keep me from living in Green- 
wich Village 1 I know its crooked 
streets, its colours, its sounds. How do 
I know this? By that sixth sense which 
puts you in places ; which enables you to 
shade with your imagination the rough 
sketch that a story gives of a place or a 
city. 

Besides, to those of us who live in 
what wc write it is impossible not to 
live in what we read. And so I, too, 
have bohemia. Since it is a state of 
mind it is just as real to me here as to 
you there. But there is this difference. 

•"The Inevitable Adventure" is the title 
of an article that appeared in the July 
Bookman. — EorroR's Note. 



If success comes to you, your village 
will rejoice with you. New York will 
applaud as you climb the golden ladder. 
If success comes to mc, it will be here 
in my little room, with never a toast 
or a taper, and only myself for the 
shouting and the tumult. 

To-day, after I read your article, I 
went down to the ocean and sat on a 
rock, with the spray splashing in my 
face. The ocean brings me nearer to 
my city. This touches there. These 
waters — so I like to fancy — sweep be- 
neath the Statue of Liberty, glide along 
in the shade of those mountains erected 
to mart and trade^ and lap the wharves. 
As I watched, a long grey shadow, far 
out, milky with distance, slipped down 
the ocean's edge, under the eaves of the 
sky. 

It was going to New York. 

And I stood upon the deck and waved 
and waved and waved. I was leaving 
more than just my home and loved ones. 
I was leaving the little girl of me — 
the one who dreamed, and built the 
beautiful plans. Now the dreams were 
over. I was stepping into the future, 
that future which had looked so bright 
that the glory of it shone across my 
girlhood years, making of privation and 
trouble petty things; whispering in my 
ear, "Hardship and poverty — these are 
your tools. You cannot build without 
them. It is opportunity, not obstacle. 
To write you must live. This is liv- 
ing!" 

So I stored it all away in my treas- 
ure chests, and waited and served my 
apprenticeship happily. And to-day I 
and my treasures were sailing forth to 
the test. We were going to discover if 
there was real gold in the nuggets. 

At last we came to New York. 
Misty-eyed, choky-throaty, I watched 
the mighty buildings drawing nearer, 
going higher — piercing the blue vast- 
ness at eagle heights. This was tbe.cul- 



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mination of another's plans; these had 
risen from some timid boy's day dreams. 

By and by, after the way of fairy 
tales, I found myself in the Village. I 
think I did not have to look for bo- 
hemia. It was there, about me. The 
streets were tinged with the hue of it; 
the hurrying steps, the cries, the sounds, 
held the minor note of it. And in the 
restaurant where I went — trembling 
with eagerness, half afraid — it shone 
round and about, making of the plain 
food, whatever it was, ambrosia for the 
gods. 

Here and there I caught snatches of 
vague things — a word thrown from 
table to table, a gay group just vanishing 
around a corner, a bar of laughter from 
a taxi window — the undercurrent of 
fascinating things happening about me. 
It set a thousand ideas darting into my 
brain, like winged birds that dip and 
touch the water and are gone again. 
This was a story-teller's happy hunting 
ground. 

Soon I was a part of the Village, work- 
ing in my little room, dining here and 
there, passing and repassing in halls and 
on the streets others who thought and 
worked as I did, and were interested in 
the things I found interesting. How it 
fed the soul ! How it kindled the sparks 
of imagination and creation ! The strug- 
gle, the work, the faith in one's ability, 
and the daily intercourse with those 
whose gods were mine — success and 
fame and riches could hold notlflng 
greater than this. Here was fulfillment! 

Listen, you — I have never known an 
established writer. I myself write be- 
cause — why, because. I cannot help it! 
The things are there, pounding with 
their persistent little knuckles to be let 
out. They are bigger than I. I am clay 
in their hands. They have their way 
with us. 

I do not know if my writing holds 
promise, except that I get an occasional 
acceptance. My little craft sweeps head- 
long down the river, because the cur- 
rent of thought is swift and will not be 
still, but I do not know the port, or 
any of the mileposts. There is nothing 



to follow except, now and then, that 
fleeting glimpse, on ahead, of a wraith 
of a pilot who has been called Inspira- 
tion. 

I am glad there are some in bohemia 
who are gathering the happy things. Let 
him who yelps of sham receive only the 
sham. Some there arc who see the 
stars, and to have the power to see a 
thing is to be very near to it. 

Your optimism makes it happier, 
somehow, for those of us who know bo- 
hemia and can never know it; who have 
it in our hearts, and can never so much 
as touch it with the tips of our fingers; 
who have heard the call, and have dis- 
covered the road, and have seen the 
lights of the city, but for whom the gates 
are forever closed. 

N. P. 

Brooklyn, N. Y. 
Editor of The Bookman: 

In your magazine for June, page 361, 
the writer refers to the Chinese as the 
"Jews of the East." In explanation of 
that reference he continues "each man 
is for himself and does nothing for his 
town or for society in general." It was 
a matter of deep regret to me to find 
an interesting and instructive article 
marred by the presence in it of a state- 
ment so misleading and by implication 
so pernicious as that above referred to. 
The Jews have been so long so exten- 
sively and so unjustly victimised by 
prejudice and its evil progeny that every 
fair-minded and humane writer ought 
scrupulously to avoid any reference or 
statement that may add to the burden 
which the Jews have already to carry. 
It is absolutely untrue, as the writer 
implied, that the Jews as a body any- 
where are only for themselves and do 
nothing for society in general. 

There are parasitic Jews just as there 
are parasites among other denominations 
or racial groups. Others can lay claim 
to no monopoly of any kind of deficiency 
or delinquency. This, however, does 
not warrant the broad, baneful and 
illogical generalisation which would at- 



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tribute the shortcomings of some to the 
generality, or even to the many. Intelli- 
gence knows, as candour must confess, 
that as is evidenced conspicuously every- 
where the Jews contribute their share, 
or, as might be expressed in present day 
parlance, "do their bit" for the promo- 
tion and welfare of the general good. 

Accordingly, as one who for many 
years has tried to effect more kindly 
relations between Jews, Christians and 
others, I desire to protest against care- 
less reference to my people and to plead 
for such considerate treatment of them, 
along with all others, as will lead to a 
hastening of the realisation of that fra- 
ternity which is so sorely needed in the 
world at the present time, the absence 
of which previously accounts so largely 
for the calamitous catastrophe which 
has caused the world to suffer such a 
carnival of carnage. 

Rabbi Alexander Lyons, Ph.D. 

Richmond, Va. 
Editor of The Bookman: 

I read Mr. Ranck's letter in the 
August number regarding Mayne Reid 
with interest, and think your printing 
of the vindication of Poe worth while, 
as it is now difficult to find in such a 
form. Most biographers of Poe have 
quoted from Reid*s vindication, and Mr. 
Woodberry's revised Life of Poe in addi- 
tion gives further light into Reid's asso- 
ciations with Poe, from an article by 
Howard Paul in Munsey's Magazine 
for September, 1892. The Reid article 
on Poe originally appeared under the 
heading "A Dead Man Defended,** in 
the April, 1869, number of Onward. 

Reid, in his reference to "blackguard," 
as applied to Poe, recalls the criticism of 
Alexander Smith in Leaves from Amer- 
ican Poets, London, 1866. There the 
phrase "Blackguard of genius" appeared, 
grounded, as usual, on Griswold's state- 
ments about Poe. 

This epithet was used again by the 
editor of the British Weekly in the issue 
of March 29, 191 7, in his criticism on 
Poe's Helen, Although the editor of 



the British Weekly had his attention 
called to this phrase of Smithes in a 
personal letter from a correspondent sev- 
eral weeks prior to the appearance of his 
criticism, he appears to have appro- 
priated it as his own in his note. 

J. H. Whitty. 

Providence, R. L 

Editor of The Bookman: 

Being a close follower of Sara Teas- 
dale's work, I think I ought to be able 
to recognise her style of writing. Am 
I right in saying that "Laggard" was 
written by her? 

Samuel Heller. 

Walter's Park, Pa. 

Editor of The Bookman: 

Apropos of the article in the August 
number of The Bookman under the 
title simply of "Henry James," the im- 
pression is somehow conveyed that it 
may be more interesting to read about 
Henry James than to read the man him- 
self. I had been reading — or reading 
at — The Wings of a Dove for the first 
time, and just before seeing the article 
in The Bookman I came upon this 
sentence on page 145, Volume 2, Scrib- 
ner edition: 

Not yet so much as this morning had 
she felt herself sink into possession; grate- 
fully glad that the warmth of the southern 
summer was still in the high, florid rooms, 
palatial chambers where hard cool pave- 
ments took reflections in their lifelong polish, 
and where the sun on the stirred sea water, 
flickering up through open windows, played 
over the painted "subjects" in the splendid 
ceilings — medallions of purple and brown, 
of brave old melancholy colour, medals as 
of old reddened gold, embossed and berib- 
boned, all tones with time and all flourished 
and scalloped and gilded about, set in their 
great moulded and figured concavity (a nest 
of white cherubs, friendly creatures of the 
air), and appreciated by the aid of that 
second tier of smaller lights, straight open- 
ings to the front, which did everything, even 
with the Baedekers and photographs of 



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Mill/s party dreadfully meeting the eye, 
to make of the place an apartment of state. 

As a bit of descriptive writing, Ruskin, 
Symonds, Howells have done it so much 
better and more simply — and as a situa- 
tion, read Flaubert and de Maupassant. 
Reading Henry James is often like a 
game of hide-and-seek in vi^hich we come 
out bewildered, empty handed, not hav- 
ing been able to find what Mr. James 
has so carefully hidden. Mr. James has 
seemed out of his generation. He should 
have lived in the cinque cento, when men 
had time to incise the Lord's Prayer or 
the Ten Commandments on a bit of gold 
or a piece of parchment no larger than 
a dime — and when people had time and 
patience to decipher and to applaud. 
Certainly no golden nor precious thought 
is buried in the hundred and fifty-five 
words that begin the twenty-fourth chap- 
ter of the second volume of The IVings 
of a Dove. This sounds Biblical — one 
feels inclined to ask. What is Henry 
James, and did he write seriously or 
with a twinkle in his eye, and, if he 
could be so vulgar, with his tongue in 
his cheek? Personally I have heard him 
described as a belated but cultured Pic- 
wick. 

Caroline B. Kuelm. 

LuDiNGTON, Mich. 
Editor of the Bookman: 

I wish to add a few words — or per- 
haps, more correctly speaking, an ex- 
planation — to my communication on re- 
ligion in The Bookman for July. I 
maintained there that nature, which the 
rationalists regard as the supreme being, 
is not unmoral and indifferent to good 
and evil, but is thoroughly beneficent 
and reveals in its processes all the ideals 
found in humanity. 

But to many persons this view will 
at first appear untenable. Nature, it 
will be said, is everywhere wasteful and 
cruel, millions of germs being produced 
and only a few succeeding, species con- 
tending with species, life endlessly feed- 
ing on life — whereas human beings are 



sympathetic and helpful, and unwilling 
that any should suffer or should toil in 
vain. But this argument^ it should be 
stated, is unsound* in its conception both 
of nature in general and of human life. 
First, there is vastly less suffering in the 
aggregate among the lower animals than 
some of the professed Darwinians have 
supposed. Death in most cases is sud- 
den, and the periods of suffering, gener- 
ally speaking, when compared with even 
the briefest lives, are short. The impres- 
sion given to the impartial observer by 
plant and animal life during the periods 
of growth, in the woods or along the 
stream, is usually not that of gloom and 
misery, but of joy and surging energy. 
Second, it can easily be shown that hu- 
manity is not nearly so considerate of 
life as some of its extoUers contend. 
When we consider the enormous amount 
of plant and animal life that is slaugh- 
tered for food and sport, the human race 
must be looked upon as the most life- 
destroying type of animal that nature 
has ever produced. Let those who con- 
demn nature first justify themselves. 
But even viewed on the more spiritual 
side, the absolutely safe and unadven- 
turous manner of existence is, after all, 
not the full expression of human ideals. 
The simpler joys and pursuits are, of 
course, necessary and pleasant; but there 
exist in all of us deeper yearnings and 
aspirations. We see ourselves as factors 
in the cosmic development in the uni- 
verse, and we regard it not as a sacrifice 
but as a sacred privilege to aid in this 
process. We willingly toil, suffer, even 
die if necessary; and we ask only the 
assurance that our labours, whether great 
or small, shall be conserved and shall 
endure. It is not that we seek destruc- 
tion; our real aim is rather to attain a 
higher form of being. 

The same principle has operated al- 
ways in the evolution of life. The lower 
forms have not been destroyed in the 
absolute sense; they have contributed — 
perhaps willingly for all we know — to 
the life of the higher forms. So in us, 
the tendency and the deepest desire are 
not only to live in the limited sense, but 



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103 



also by living to contribute to still 
higher orders of existence. 

It may be asked, Shall we then seek 
to justify the present war ? The answer 
is emphatically, No. It may be the war 
was inevitable; it may be evil forces are 
thus being released that had no other 
outlet. There is also the consolation 
that in the scheme of nature none of 
the millions of lives in the war have 
perished in vain and none of the anguish 
and sorrow throughout the world will 
go unrewarded. But whether viewed 
in the light of human evolution alone 
or in the light of the infinite cosmic 
development, the war stands out as some- 
thing abnormal and hideous. It is not 
at all like the general process of evo- 
lution as revealed in the course of the 
ages, in which lower life rises from 
less complex and rude forms to those 
more elaborate; it resembles rather the 



occasional cataclysms — the earthquakes, 
the volcanic eruptions, or the clash of 
stellar systems. Like these, it may be 
inevitable, and it may be necessary for 
the attainment of higher good. But, like 
these, too, it is not the normal and 
ideal form of being, and to the infinitely 
deeper consciousness of nature it must 
be infinitely more loathesome. 

There is no gulf between nature and 
humanity except that created by selfish 
interests rooted in systems of thought 
that have been overthrown. The deepest 
ideals of mankind and the laws of nature 
are one harmonious system, and the hope 
for the ending of the present misery 
throughout the world, and the realisation 
of higher welfare in the future lies in 
the study of these laws and in the ad- 
justment of thought and conduct in com- 
pliance with them. 

Cyrus H. Eshleman. 



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Biography 

In the World. By Maxim Gorky. New 
York: The Century Company. $2.00. 

The second volume of Gorky's autobiog- 
raphy 

The Story of Cooperstown. By Ralph Bird- 
sail. Cooperstown, N. Y.: The Arthur 
H. Crist Company. Seventy illustrations 
from photographs. $1.50. 

A narrative in twenty chapters of 
Cooperstown from the earliest times, per- 
sons and events having been selected for 
their story interest. 

Henry Thoreau, as Remembered by a 
Young Friend. By Edward Waldo 
Emerson. Boston: Houghton Mifflin 
Company. $1.25. 

Recollections of the poet-naturalist, by 
a son of Ralph Waldo Emerson — both per- 
sonal memories and those of Concord peo- 
ple who knew Thoreau best. 

Domestic Science 

Woodcraft for Women. By Katherine G. 
Pinkerton. Outing Handbooks. Chicago: 
Outing Publishing Company 80 cents. 

In fifteen chapters. 

The Book of Home Nursing. By Francis 
Campbell. New York: E. P. Dutton & 
Company $1.25. 

A practical guide for the treatment of 
sickness in the home, by a trained nurse: 
a non-technical book intended by the au- 
thor to serve as foundation for specialised 
training. 

Hygiene of the Face and Cosmetic Guide. 
By Richard W. Miiller, M.D. New 
York: E. P. Dutton & Company. $2.00. 

In two parts: how to preserve the skin 
by intelligent care; a collection of recipes 
and directions not accessible before. 



Drama 

The Play of Life. American Dramatist 
Series. By Aha Florence Armstrong. 
Boston: Richard G. Badger. $1.00. 

An elaboration of the statement, "All 
the world's a stage." 



The Sorceress. A Drama in Five Acts. 
Contemporary Dramatists Series. By 
Victorien Sardou. Authorised transla- 
tion from the French by Charles A. 
Weissert. Boston: Richard G. Badger. 
$1.00. 

A story of Granada and the Inquisition. 



Economics 

Workmen's Compensation. By J. E. Rhodes, 
2nd. New York: The Macmillan Com- 
pany. $1.50. 

A history of the workmen's compensa- 
tion movement in this country and an out- 
line of the principles on which it is based. 

The Emancipation of the American City. 
By Walter Tallmadge Arndt. New 
York: Dufiield & Company. $1.50. 

A study of Home Rule and of agencies 
to realise the municipal ideal of service 
to its citizens. 



Essays 

Present-Day American Poetry. Studies in 
Literature. By H. Houston Peckham. 
Boston: Richard G. Badger. $1.00. 

A collection of articles from various 
magazines, dealing with problems of in- 
terpretation and criticism in present-day 
criticism. 

Petain, the Prepared. A Message to Ameri- 
can Manhood. By Edward Earle Purin- 
ton. New York: Fleming H. Revell 
Company. With Portrait. 50 cents. 

The story of the great Frenchman, 
voicing the "preparedness" theme. 

The Moderns. By John Freeman. New 
York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. 
$1.75. 

Nine essays in literary criticism, includ- 
ing such subjects as Shaw, Wells, Con- 
rad, and Bridges. 

The House in Order. By Louis Collier 
Willcox. New York: E. P. Dutton & 
Company. 25 cents. 

Reprinted by request from Harper's 
Weekly, 



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Feminism 

The Living Present. By Gertrude Atherton. 
New York: Frederick A. Stokes Com- 
pany. $1.50. 

A discussion of all phases of women's 
work in war-time, and of many problems 
to be solved when peace comes. 



Fiction 

Jap Herron. With an introduction, "The 
Coming of Jap Herron," by Emily Grant 
Hutchings. New York: Mitchell Kcn- 
nerley. With Portrait. $1.50. 

A novel written from the ouija board. 

The House of Landell. By Gertrude Capen 
Whitney (Mrs. George Erastus Whit- 
ney). New York: R. F. Fenno & Com- 
pany. $1.35. 

A love story in which the marriage 
problem is developed. 

Ranny. Otherwise Randolph Harrington 
Dukes. By Howard Brubaker. New 
York: Harper & Brothers. Illustrated. 
$1.40. 

A tale of the activities of a boy which 
made him an important figure in his town, 
his family, and other families. 

The New Carthage. By Georges EEkhoud. 
Translated by Lloyd R. Morris. New 
York: Duffield & Company. $1.50. 

A story of the city of Antwerp before 
this war, by the Belgian novelist, and 
dedicated to King Albert of the Belgians. 

Sube Cane. By Edward Bellamy Partridge. 
Philadelphia: The Penn Publishing 
Company. Illustrated. $1.35. 

A humourous story of the escapades of 
a small boy. 

Summer. By Edith Wharton. New York: 
D. Appleton & Company. $1.50. 

A New England story of a waifs love 
affair and marriage. 

The Joyful Years. By F. T. Wawn. New 
York: E. P. Dutton & Company. $1.50. 

A love story of out-of-doors, in which 
the characters "find themselves." 

The Long Lane's Turning. By Hallie Er- 
minie Rives. New York: Dodd, Mead & 
Company. Illustrated. $1.50. 

A love story of the Old South. 



Where It Touches the Ground. By Mon- 
tayne Perry. New York: The Abingdon 
Press. 75 cents. 

A temperance story — the visualisation of 
a love story from "a movie." 

The Master of the Hills. By Sarah Johnson 
Cocke. New York: E. P. Dutton & Com- 
pany. $1.50. 

A story of two generations of Georgia 
folk. 

From Death to Life. Gems of Russian Lit- 
erature. Volume I. By A. Apukhtin. 
New York: R. Frank, Publisher. Trans- 
lated from the original by R. Frank and 
E. Hughes. Portrait and seven pen- 
and-ink drawings. 

Seven chapters of the author's experi- 
ences in death and re-birth. 

Turn to the Right. By Bennet Musson. 
From the play by Winchell Smith and 
John E. Hazzard. New York: Duffield 
& Company. $1.35- 
The story of the American drama, 
"Turn to the Right." 



The Whistling Mother. By G 
mond. Garden City, N. Y 
Page & Company. Fron 



cents. 



race S. Rich- 
N. I.: Doubleday, 
Frontispiece. 50 



A little war-time story for mothers and 
sons. 

Martie, the Unconquered. By Kathleen 
Norris. Garden City, N. Y.: Double- 
day, Page & Company. Illustrated. 
$1.35. 

The story of a Western girl's childhood, 
unfortunate marriage, and later solution 
of the modern woman's problems. 

A Young Lion of Flanders. By J. Van Am- 
mers Kueller. Translated by C. Thieme. 
New York: Frederick A. Stokes. Illus- 
trated by Louis Raemakers. $1.50. 

A tale of the terror of war. 

In the Night. By R. Gorell Barnes. New 
York: Longmans, Green & Company. 
$1.25. 
A tale of mystery, written by a soldier 

on a leave of absence and intended by 

the author to divert soldiers. 

Gone to Earth. By Mary Webb. New York: 
E. P. Dutton & Company. $1.50. 

A story of the remote countryside, deal- 
ing with elemental love and jealousy. 



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The Inner Door. By Alan Sullivan. New 
York: The Century Company. Frontis- 
piece. $1.35. 

A love story, with the background of the 
ever-present war between labour and capi- 
tal. 

The Interlopers. By Grifiing Bancroft. New 
York: The Bancroft Company. Illus- 
trated. $1.50. 

A story of love and life in the South- 
west, in which a young Harvard doctor 
fights his way to success. 

Limehouse Nights. By Thomas Burke. New 
York: Robert M. McBride k Company. 
$1.50. 

A collection of fourteen realistic stories 
of London's Chinese quarter 

The House with the Mezzanine and other 
Stories. By Anton TchekoflF. Translated 
from the Russian by S. S. Koteliansky 
and Gilbert Cannan. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Seven stories by the Russian author, in- 
cluding the longer narratives such as the 
novelette, "My Life, the Story of a Pro- 
vincial." 

The Fighting Man. By Alden Brooks. New 
York: Charles Scribner*s Sons. $1.35. 

Six war stories by a former war-cor- 
respondent and American ambulance 
driver, now an officer in the French 
artillery. 

The Snare. By Rafael Sabatini. Philadel- 
phia: J. B. Lippincott Company. $1.25. 

A love story of the days in which Wel- 
lington drained the power of Napoleon by 
drawing Messina into Portugal. 

General Literature 

Through the Year with Thoreau. Edited 
by Herbert W. Gleason. New York: 
Houghton Mifflin Company. Illustrated. 
$3.00. 

Passages from Thoreau's writings de- 
scriptive of New England nature m the 
four seasons of the year, profusely illus- 
trated with Concord photographs. 

The Journal of Leo Tolstoi. Vol. XII of 
the Borzoi Russian Translations. (First 
Volume — 1895 to 1899.) Translated 
from the Russian by Rose Strunsky. 
New York: Alfred A. Knopf. $2.00. 

Translator's introduction, text of the 
Journal, notes by V. G. Chertkov, sketch 
of the life of Tolstoi, list of his writings 
and index. 



Some Modern Belgian Writers. By G. Tur- 
quet-Milnes. With a prefatory note by 
Edmund Gosse. New York: Robert M. 
McBride k Company. $1.00. 

A critical study of eight Belgian writers, 
including Maeterlinck, Verhaeren, and 
Destrce brothers. 



Juvenile 

The Getting Well of Dorothy. By Mrs. W. 
K. CliflFord. New York: E. P. Dutton 
& Company. Illustrated. $1.50. 

The adventures of a small girl taken to 
Switzerland to recuperate after a serious 
illness. 

Gardening for Little Girls. Practical Arts 
for Little Girls Series. By Olive Hyde 
Foster. New York: Duffield & Com- 
pany. Illustrated. 75 cents. 

Sixteen chapters of practical suggestions 
for both mothers and children. 

Miscellaneous 

Auction Bridge Crimes. Laws of the Game. 
Volume I — Polite Knavery. New York: 
R. F. Fenno k Company. $1.00. 

A satirical arraignment of twenty com- 
mon faults of our partners, indexed and 
with scoring table. 

Touring Afoot. By C. P. Fordyce. Outing 
Handbooks. Chicago: Outing Publishing 
Company. 80 cents. 

Thirteen chapters for the "hiker." 

Hints on Landscape Gardening. By Prince 
von Puckler-Muskau. Translated by 
Bernard Sickert and Edited by Samuel 
Parsons. With illustrations and maps. 
New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. 

In two parts: thirteen chapters on land- 
scape gardening in general in Part I; and 
a description of the Park in Muskau in 
Part n. 

The New Country Church Building. By 
Edmund de Schweinitz B runner. New 
York: Missionary Education Movement 
of the United States and Canada. 

Nine chapters, containing plans for 
modern community church buildings. 

Lake and Stream Game Fishing. By Dixie 
Carroll. Cincinnati: Stewart k Kidd 
Company. Illustrated. $1.75. 

The sport of angling — written in the 
vernacular of the sportsman. 



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Science and Learning in France. With a 
survey of opportunities for American 
students in French Universities. An Ap- 
preciation by American scholars, North- 
western University, Editor, John H. 
Wigmore. 

The work of a hundred American 
scholars, in some twenty-three chapters, 
with three Appendices. 

The Challenge of St. Louis. By George B. 
Mangood. New York: Missionary Edu- 
cation Movement of the United States 
and Canada. 

Ten chapters dealing with the religious, 
educational, family, and social life of the 
city. 

Poetry 

The Shadow. Anonymous. A Pastoral. 
New York: Hougton Mifflin Company. 

A poem in four parts, in which a young 
English parson works under the shadow 
of the war. 

In War Time. By May Wedderburn Can- 
nan. New York: Longmans, Green & 
Company. 90 cents. 

Fifty poems of peace and war. 

Saber and Song. By William Thornton 
Whitsett. Whitsett, N. C: Whitsett In- 
stitute. $1.25. 

A collection of fifty- five poems of varied 
subjects and treatments, idealistic and re- 
ligious in spirit 

Jevons Block. By Kate Buss. Boston: Mc- 
Grath-Sherrill Press. Illustrated. 

A book of sex-enmity: a collection of 
poems, some of which appeared in maga- 
zines. 

Poems of Charles Warren Stoddard. Col- 
lected by Ina Coolbrith. New York: 
John Lane Company. With portrait. 
$1.25. 

Some sixty poems selected by Mr. Walsh 
from the complete collection. 

Twenty-five. By Elmer Allen Bess and 
Emma Caughey Bess. New York: Flem- 
ing H. Revell Company. 75 cents. 
A little book of poetry and poetic prose 
about occasions and conditions arising in 
the lives of a couple married twenty-five 
years ago. 

The Limeratomy. By Antony Euwer. New 
York: James B. Pond. $1.00. 
A limerick anatomy in which the va- 
rious parts of the body and their afflic- 
tions are described in limericks. 



Politics 

President Wilson. From an English point of 
View. By H. Wilson Harris. New 
York: Frederick A. Stokes. 

A pro-American*8 view of the Presi- 
dents career and of American politics. 

The Origins of the Triple Alliance. By 
Archibald Cary Coolidge. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.25. 

An account of the doctrines and events 
which produced the triple alliance— cover- 
ing the period of European diplomacy in 
which Bismarck is the dominant figure. 



Religion 

The Love Letters of St. John. New York: 
Mitchell Kcnnerlcy. $1.25. 

Love letters of history, attributed to 
Saint John and Antionc, one of the Greek 
hetaerae. 

The Oracles of God. Library of Religious 
Thought. By Samuel A. Martin, D.D. 
Boston: Richard G. Badger. 

The contents of the Old Testament 
Scriptures in concise form: a textbook for 
schools and Bible classes. 

White Knights on Dartmoor. By Olive 
Katherin£ Parr (Beatrice Chase). Lon- 
don: Longmans, Green & Company. 

The organisation of the Crusade of the 
White Knights, as a remedy for the social 
evil. 

Heroes of the Campus. By Josepa W. Coch- 
ran. Philadelphia: The Westminster 
Press. 60 cents. 

The records of thirteen students who 
were Christian heroes. 

A Concise History of the Presbyterian 
Church in the United States of Amer- 
ica. By William Henry Roberts. Phila- 
delphia: Presbyterian Board of Publica- 
tion and Sabbath School Work. 50 
cents. 

A new edition of the book first issued 
*in 1888. 

Psychology 

Spirit Intercourse. Its Theory and Prac- 
tice. By J. Hewat McKenzie. New 
York: Mitchell Kennerley. $1.50. 

The author's evidence of the continuity 
of life beyond death, with psychical phe- 
nomena including the first steps in the 
science of spiritual intercourse. 



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Science 

Alcohol. Its Relation to Human Efficiency 
and Longevity. By Eugene Lyman Fisk. 
New York: Funk & Wagnalls Company. 
$i.oo. 

The author's evidence along three lines: 
Food Value, Social Value, Demands upon 
body, mind, and life. 

The Mastery of Nervousness. By Robert S. 
Carroll, M.D. New York: The Mac- 
mil Ian Company. $2.00. 

Twenty-three chapters, based upon the 
re-education of self. 



The Junior Plattsburg Manual. By Captain 
E. B. Garey and Captain O. O. Ellis. 
With a foreword by Major-General 
John F. O'Ryan. New York: The Cen- 
tury Company. $1.50. 

For boys' camps, high schools, and other 
educational institutions desiring a presen- 
tation of the elements of military training. 

A Soldier of France to his Mother. Letters 
from the Trenches on the Western 
Front. Translated, with an Introduc- 
tion by Theodore Stanton, M. A. Chi- 
cago: A. C. McClurg & Company. $1.00. 

From a young French painter who died 
at the front in 1915. 



Sex-Hygiene. A Talk to College Boys. 
Present Day Problem Series. By Fred- 
eric Henry Gerrish, M.D., LL.D., Bow- 
doin College. 60 cents. 

A scientific and ethical lecture, deliv- 
ered to the Freshmen of Bowdoin College. 



War 



Why Italy Entered into the Great War. By 
Luigi Carnovale. Chicago: Italian- 
American Publishing Company. Illus- 
trated. 

Half in English and half in Italian: a 
lengthy apologia based on Italian history, 
and events leading up to Italy's declara- 
tion of war against Austria. 

Kelly of the Foreign Legion. Letters of 
Legionnaire Russell A. Kelly. New 
York: Mitchell Kennerley. Illustrated. 
$1.00. 

Letters previously printed in the New 
York Evening Sun, together with sketch 
of the Foreign Legion. 

The British Navy at War. By W. Mac- 
Neile Dixon. New York: Houghton 
Mifflin Company. 75 cents. 

The accomplishments of the British 
Navy in the present war, including an ac- 
count of the Jutland sea fight, and the 
submarine. 

The Boys' Camp Manual. By Charles K. 
Taylor. New York: The Century Com- 
pany. Illustrated. $1.25. 

A handbook of military and all-round 
training. 



You Are the Hope of the World. By Her- 
mann Hagedorn. New York: The Mac- 
millan Comoany. 50 cents. 

An appeal to the boys and girls of 
America, in eight chapters. 

The Air Man. His Conquests in Peace and 
War. By Francis A. Collins. New 
York: The Century Company. Illus- 
trated. $1.30. 

Eleven chapters on such subjects as the 
tyro's training, the art of navigation, 
types and methods of use of aeroplanes, 
and the progress of aviation in the war. 

America's Case Against Germany. By 
Lindsay Rogers. New York: E. P. Dut- 
ton & Company. $1.50. 

^ An untechnical statement and explana- 
tion of the legal grounds of America's case 
against Germany. 

The Reconstruction of Poland and the Near 
East. By Herbert Adams Gibbons. New 
York: The Century Company. $ixx). 

An authoritative treatment of the situa- 
tion, pointing out the fundamental bases 
of a just settlement. 

A Student in Arms. By Donald Hankey. 
Second Series. New York: E. P. Dutton 
& Company. $1.50. ^ 

More essays by the author of "A Stu- 
dent in Arms," including the "Don't 
Worry." 

The Peril of Prussianism. By Douglas Wil- 
son Johnson, Columbia University. New 
York: G. P. Putnam's Sons. 

An address delivered before the annual 
convention of the Iowa Bankers' Associa- 
tion at Des Moines. 



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The Retreat From Mods. With an introduc- 
tion by Field-Marshal Viscount French. 
Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company. 50 
cents. 

An authoritative story told from official 
records by a member of the British Gen- 
eral StaflF. 

America and the Great War for Humanity 
and Freedom. By Willis Fletcher John- 
son, A.M., L.H.D., American Foreign 
Relations, New York University. Phila- 
delphia: The John C. Winston Com- 
pany. 

Twenty-nine chapters on such topics as 
the causes and issues of the war, the his- 
tory of events prior to the conflict, facts 
and figures concerning the forces engaged, 
America's resources. 

Christine. By Alice Cholmondeley. New 
York: The Macmillan Company. $1.25. 

Letters from a girl at a German hos- 
pital three years before the war, and giv- 
ing the state of the German mind at that 
time. 



A World in Ferment. By Nicholas Murray 
Butler, President of Columbia Univer- 
sity. New York: Charles Scribner's 
Sons. $1.25. 

Interpretations of the war for a new 
worl^: thirteen chapters, including such 
topics as "The Present Crisis," "The Rus- 
sian Revolution," "The International 
Mind." 

A Soldier's Memories in Peace and War. 
By Major-General Younghusband. New 
York: E. P. Dutton & Company. Illus- 
trated. $5.00. 

Twenty-one chapters of reminiscences, 
anecdotes and stories with such titles as: 
"A Subaltern's First Battle," "The Span- 
ish-American War," "South African Jot- 
tings." 

Towards the Goal. By Mrs. Humphry 
Ward. With a preface by Theodore 
Roosevelt. New York: Charles Scrib- 
ner's Sons. $1.25. 

A woman's letters from the front: a 
sequel to "England's Effort" — a revelation 
of the verification, at the front, of the 
prophecy implied in the first book. 



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The following is a list of the most popular new books in order of demand, as sold between the first 
or July and the first of August: 



FICTION 



CITY 

New York City 

New York City 

Albany, N. Y 

Atlanta, Ga 

Boston, MaM 

Boston, Mass 

Boston, Mass 

Baltimore, Md 

Baltimore, Md 

Birmingham, Ala. 

Chicago, HL 

Chicago, lU 

Cincinnati, Ohio 

Cleveland, Ohio 

Dallas, Texas 

Denver, Colo 

Des Moines, la 

Detroit, Mich 

Indianapolis, Ind 

Jacksonville, Fla 

Kansas City, Mo 

Louisville, Ky 

Los Angeles, Cal 

Milwaukee, Wis 

Minneapolis, Minn 

New Haven, Conn.... 

New Orleans, La 

Norfolk, Va 

Pittsburgh, Pa 

Portland, Me 

Providence, R. I 

Philadelphia, Pa 

Philadelphia, Pa 

Portland, Ore 

Richmond, Va 

Rochester, N. Y 

San Antonio, Tex 

San Francisco, Cal.... 
San Francisco, Cal 

Seattle, Wash. 

Spokane, Wash. 

St Paul, Minn 

St Louis, Mo 

St Louis, Mo 

Toronto, Can 

Toledo, Ohio 

Utica,N.Y 

Washington, D. C 

Worcester, Mass 



iST ON List 

His Own Country 
His Family 
The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

Bromley Neighborhood 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

His Family 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Light in The Clearing 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Definite Object 
His Family 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Dark Star 

The Red Planet 

The Light in the Clearing 

His Family 

The Red Planet 

The Hundredth Chance 
The Red Planet 
The Road to Understanding 
The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Definite Object 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Red Planet 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Lovers 

His Family 

The Red Planet 

His Family 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Hundredth Chance 

The Hundredth Chance 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

His Family 

The Red Planet 

His Family 



2D ON List 

Where Your Treasure Is 

Summer 

Summer 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Red Planet 

The Hundredth Chance 

The Definite Object 

His Family 

The Cinema Murder 

The Definite Object 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Road of Ambition 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Hundredth Chance 
Mr. Britling Sees It Through 
The Yukon Trail 
The Road to Understanding 

Changing Winds 
His Own Country 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Definite Object 

Those Times and These 

Summer 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Red Planet 

Bromley Neighborhood 

His Family 

The Definite Object 

The Light in the Clearing 

His Family 

Mistress Anne 

The Definite Object 

The Light in the Clearing 

Wildfire 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Red Planet 

Cecilia of the Pink Roses 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Summer 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Dark Star 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Treolars 

The Definite Object 

Changing Winds 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Greenmantle 

The Dark Star 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 



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I I I 



FICTION 



3D ON List 

Secret of Storm Country 
The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

His Family 

Where Your Treasure Is 

His Family 

A Diversity of Creatures 

His Family 

His Family 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Definite Object 
The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Definite Object 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Light in the Clearing 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Light in the Clearing 
His Family 
The Red Planet 
His Family 
Road to Understanding 

Summer 

Summer 

The Light in the Clearing 
Bromley Neighborhood 
The Red Planet 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
American Ambassador 
The Hundredth Chance 
The Cinema Murder 
When a Man's a Man 
Summer 

The Definite Object 
The Hand of Fu-Manchu 
The Red Planet 
Greenmantle 

Jerry of the Islands 
The Red Planet 
His Family 
Bromley Neighborhood 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

In the Wilderness 
The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 

Summer 

The Red Planet 



4TH ON List 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Love's Inferno 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Definite Object 
The Definite Object 
Bromley Neighborhood 
Summer 

The Definite Object 
The Hundredth Chance 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Hundredth Chance 

The Red Planet 

Changing Winds 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Mistress Anne 

His Family 

The Road to Ambition 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 
The Red Planet 
Bromley Neighborhood 
Changing Winds 
The Red Planet 

Changing Winds 

His Family 

Mistress Anne 
The Cinema Murder 
The Definite Object 
The Definite Object 

Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper 

His Family 

The Hundredth Chance 

The Hand of Fu-Manchu 

The Light in the Clearing 

Mistress Anne 

Summer 

The Hundredth Chance 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Light in the Clearing 
Road to Understanding 
The Red Planet 
The Red Planet 
In the Wilderness 

The Light in the Clearing 
The Light in the Clearing 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Bromley Neighborhood 

The Definite Object 



5TH ON List 

The Lifted Veil 
The Definite Object 
His Family 

American Ambassador 

Where Your Treasure Is 

Summer 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Hundredth Chance 

Summer 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Preacher of Cedar 

Mountain 
Over the Top 
The Definite Object 
Changing Winds 
Oh, Mary, Be Careful 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Red Planet 

Mistress Anne 
Changing Winds 

Mistress Anne 

The Light in the Clearing 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Definite Object 

The Preacher of Cedar 

Mountain 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Where Your Treasure Is 

The Definite Object 
Changing Winds 
His Family 
Bromley Neighborhood 

The Definite Object 
Mistress Anne 
Bromley Neighborhood 
The Red Planet 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Dark Star 
In the Wilderness 
Lydia of the Pines 

Cappy Ricks 

Wildfire 

In the Wilderness 

The Sorry Tale 

The Triflers 

The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 
The Red Planet 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Paradise Auction 



6th on List 

Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper 

Enchantment 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Light in the Clearing 

Summer 

His Family ^ 

Bromley Neighborhood 

Wildfire 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Bromley Neighborhood 

The Dark Star 

Road to Understanding 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

My Country 

Road to Understanding 

The Red Planet 

The Secret of the Storm 

Country 
Paradise Auction 
The Light in the Clearing 

The Son of Tarzan 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Secret of Storm Country 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Dark Star 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Worn Doorstep 
His Family 
The Chosen People 
The Hundredth Chance 

Where Your Treasure Is 
The Cinema Murder 
His Family 

The Light in the Clearing 
Those Times and These 
The Cinema Murder 
Jerry of the Islands 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Mistress Anne 

The Hundredth Chance 
Mistress Anne 
The Cinema Murder 
The Road of Ambition 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
In the Wilderness 
Wildfire 

The Hundredth Chance 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 



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God the Invisible King. H. G. Wells. 
A Student in Arms. D. W. A. Hankey. 
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Bab: A Sub-Deb. Mary R. Rinehart. 
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Love's Inferno. Edward Stilgebauer. 

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Over the Top. Arthur Guy Empey. 

Paradise Auction. Nalbro Bartley. 

The Plattsburg Manual. Ellis and Garey. 

The Preacher of Cedar Mountain. S. D. 
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Rhymes of a Red Cross Man. R. W. Serv- 
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The Son of Tarzan. E. H. Burroughs. 

The Sorry Tale, "Patience Worth." (Mrs. 
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A Student in Arms. D. W. A. Hankey. 

Summer. Edith Wharton. 

The Treolars. Mary Fisher. 

When a Man's a Man. Harold Bell Wright. 

Where Your Treasure Is. Holman F. 

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Wildfire. Zane Grey. 

The Worn Doorstep. Margaret Sherwood. 

The Yukon Trail. W. MacLeod Raine. 



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STEVENSON IN HAWAII 

BY ELEANOR RIVENBURGH 



I 
The European trail of Robert Louis 
Stevenson, well worn by literary guides, 
is familiar to those who have followed 
his career. The life of the novelist in 
Samoa has been described for us by no 
less gifted a pen than his own. Glimpses 
of the author among the islands of the 
South Paqific haye been afforded those 
who have sought to follow the discon- 
nected trail of his wanderings. Yet lit- 
tle has been chronicled of the distin- 
guished writer in Hawaii, that land of 
sea and sunshine which gave him new 
strength and inspiration, and where, 
favoured by royalty and gratified by the 
love of valued friends, the author gave 
some of his most important work to the 
world. 

The close friendship between the 
family of Robert Louis Stevenson and 
Mrs. Caroline Bush, of Honolulu, had 
its incipiency in an expedition sent in 
1887 by His Hawaiian Majesty, King 
Kalakaua, to Samoa, when Mr. Henry 
Poor, a son of Mrs. Bush, became 
travelling companion of Mr. Joseph 
Strong, the son-in-law of Mrs. R. L. 
Stevenson. It was during the political 
disturbances in Samoa, when, encour- 
aged by the support of the German trad- 
ing firms, Tamasese, the rebel chief, had 
risen against King Malietoa. 

Vol. XLVI, No. 2. 



Affairs at that time were deplorable, 
the islanders and Europeans both desir- 
ing some form of stable government. 
The King held his position by moral 
force alone, his name and family being 
traditionally reVered. The officials ex- 
ercised no functions and the government 
no authority, as it awaited in apathetic 
resignation some solution to the situa- 
tion. 

Mr. Strong, who had accompanied 
the expedition in the schooner Kaimiloa, 
and Mr. Poor, Secretary to the Em- 
bassy, were provided with entertainment 
on the voyage by the exchange of remi- 
niscences, and almost immediately the 
friendship between them was established. 
Upon the arrival of the vessel at Apia 
a cottage was engaged, the two com- 
panions sharing it for several months 
till their return together to Hawaii. 

Thereupon Mr. Strong and his wife, 
who had remained in Honolulu, became 
the house guests of Mrs. Caroline Bush, 
through whose social prestige they not 
only were introduced to court life, but 
later became favourites of King Kala- 
kaua. 

On the 24th of January, 1889, the 
yacht Casco arrived after a long and 
rough voyage from Tahiti. The vessel 
was boarded off the harbour by Mr. and 
Mrs. Strong, and the party, met by 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 




THE COTTAGE AT SAMOA. MR. JOSEPH STRONG, SON-IN-LAW OF MRS, R. L. STEVENSON, IS SEATED AT 
THE EASEL. IN THE STEAMER-CHAIR IS MR. HENRY POOR, SON OF MRS. CAROLINE BUSH, A CLOSE 
FRIEND OF THE STEVENSON FAMILY AND SECRETARY OF THE HAWAIIAN EMBASSY TO SAMOA 



Mr. Poor on their arrival at the dock, 
were driven directly to the home of his 
mother, whose invitation they had ac- 
cepted. 

This old house, still standing, though 
fated to be supplanted in the near future 
by a more modern dwelling, attracts 
but an indifferent glance from those 
unfamiliar with the past when its doors 
swung wide in open-hearted hospitality. 
It now adjoins a pretentious hostelry, to 
which it bears an humble contrast in its 
old-fashioned garden of tropical trees. 

Manuia,* the beach residence of Mr. 
Poor, was placed at once at the disposal 
of the Stevenson family, who proceeded 
without delay to take up their quarters 
in the pretty cottage at Waikiki. 

Mr. Stevenson's call upon His Maj- 
esty, King Kalakaua, having been re- 
turned — the Casco and Nyanza, lying 
alongside, being beautifully dressed with 

*Samoan word meaning "welcome." 



flags for the occasion — the author and 
his family became the incentive for a 
"luau" given in their honour by Mr. 
Poor. 

This was an elaborate and typically 
Hawaiian feast. A large fine mat had 
been spread on the floor in the living- 
room, the guests being seated around it. 
For days the forest uplands had been 
searched for the fragrant foliage of wild 
ginger and fronds of the "palapalai," or 
mountain fern. These plants, at that 
time rare, are now quite extinct in the 
islands of Hawaii, and it was only after 
a diligent quest that a sufficient quantity 
was secured. 

A congenial group gathered on this 
festive occasion. His Majesty, King 
David Kalakaua, and Her Royal High- 
ness, Princess Liliuokalani, his sister, 
being numbered with the guests. 

The old-fashioned "luau," which has 
disappeared with those Hawaiians whose 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



"5 




MANUIA, THE BEACH RESIDENCE OP MR. HENRT POOR. THIS 
COTTAGE WAS PLACED BY THE OtVNER AT THE DISPOSAL OP 
THE STEVENSON FAMILY, WHO TOOK UP THEIR QUARTERS 
THERE IMMEDIATELY UPON THEIR ARRIVAL IN HAWAII 



culinary skill made possible its achieve- 
ment, was a feature of island hospitality 
to delight the memory, and for that 
given at Manuia both land and sea had 
yielded their choicest delicacies. 

Bundles of "ti"* leaves, untied by the 
guests, offered their steaming aroma of 
chicken cooked with cocoanut, roast 
pork, laulau,t mullet, tuna and clams. 
There were many dainties of limu,^ sea 
eggs flavoured with rock salt pounded 
into roasted kukuinuts, puddings of 
baked sweet potatoes, or taro, and co- 
coanut cream^ with here and there a 
calabash of poi.§ This feast, with its 
inviting fragrance of food cooked under- 
ground, its perfume of tropical plants, 
the music of a Hawaiian quintette, the 
hulas (native dances) by maidens in 

*A tropical plant 

fPork, beef and salmon cooked together. 

^lEdible seaweed. 

§The Staple food of the Hawaiians, a 
glutinous substance of pounded taro, slightly 
fermented. 



grass skirts, and the stately waving of 
kahilis,t deeply impressed the visitors in 
contrast to the more simple order of 
the Polynesians. 

After the royal toasts had been ac- 
knowledged and the merriment of the 
guests had for the moment subsided, 
Robert Louis Stevenson, drawing from 
the pocket of his coat a small packet, 
presented to the King a golden pearl, 
reading the lines by which it was ac- 
companied : 

The Silver Ship,** my King, — that was her 

name 
In the bright Islands whence your fathers 

came; 
The Silver Ship, at rest from winds and 

tides. 
Below your palace in your harbour rides, 

ITFeathered staves used in all royal cere- 
monials. 

♦♦Called "Silver Ship" because, being 
painted grey, it looked like silver when sail- 
ing into the harbour at twilight. A native 
appellation. 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



117 



And the seafarers, sitting safe on shore, 
Like eager merchants count their treasures 

o'er; 
One gift they find, one strange and lovely 

thing, 
Now doubly precious, since it pleased a 

king; 
The right, my liege, is ancient as the lyre, 
For bards to give to kings what kings ad- 
mire; 
'Tis mine to offer, for Apollo's sake, 
And since the gift is fitting, yours to take; 
To golden hands the golden pearl I bring, 
The ocean jewel to the Island King. 

The home of Mrs. Charles A. K. 
Hopkins, the daughter of Mrs. Bush, 
who was a child during the visits of 
Robert Louis Stevenson to Honolulu, is 
replete with mementoes of the author 
and his Hawaiian associations. 

On each side of the entrance one is 
shown the "kahilis" which were waved 
above His Majesty and Mr. Stevenson 
on the occasion of the feast at Manuia. 
The feathered staff to-day is a rare relic 
of the past regime, and these two "ka- 
hilis," with their plumage of black and 
white feathers mounted above deep 
handles of cut ivory inlaid with mother- 
of-pearl and elaborately hand-carved 
tortoise shell, are especially interesting 
and attractive. 

Surmounting a pedestal, and highly 
polished with native oils, is the silver- 
mounted calabash of koa from which 
King Kalakaua and Mr. Stevenson 
shared their poi, while on the walls are 
numerous portraits and enlargements of 
pictures taken at the time by Mr. 
Strong. 

Mrs. Hopkins, in recalling her recol- 
lections of the author, took issue with 
the assertion that he was not particu- 
larly fond of children. 

"Mr. Stevenson was so wonderfully 
sweet and kind to us," she said, "I re- 
member him distinctly in his white 
flannels^ velveteen jacket, loose shirt and 
flowing tie. At first my playmates were 
in awe of a figure so unusual, and I 
wondered why he wore his hair so long. 
But we were, nevertheless, attracted to 



him, and hovered near him whenever 
opportunity afforded. 

"As a child I fear my impressions of 
my distinguished friend were coloured 
by considerations other than his lovable 
character. I often sat upon his knee, 
listening to his fairy tales of Hawaii, 
which so completely possessed me that 
at their conclusion I would timidly reach 
up and touch him to assure myself of 
his reality, 

"There are two occasions when the 
author impressed me with his apprecia- 
tion of the sentiments of children. One 
of these was at a birthday party given 
for me by Mr. Stevenson. We had been 
playing musical games on the lawn — in- 
troduced for the first time in Hawaii — 
when Harry Byng, who had but recently 
arrived, passed along the road with his 
'trained bear. 

"To the delight of the children, who 
were eager to see the performance, our 
host summoned the man into the 
grounds. It was a dancing bear that 
at the end of his act had been taught 
to pass his master's hat around. Mr. 
Stevenson must have anticipated this 
feature toward the conclusion of the 
dance, for I remember that he ap- 
proached all the little children in turn, 
giving to each of us a few coins, that 
none might feel embarrassment at being 
unable to respond. 

"The other occasion which I recall," 
concluded Mrs. Hopkins, "was one 
afternoon when I passed down Fort 
Street on my way from school. I was 
with several of my friends when I recog- 
nised Mr. Stevenson. I do not remem- 
ber that which led to the suggestion, but 
a few minutes later we were all crossing 
the street and heading straight for 
Thrum^s, a shop where books and toys 
were offered for sale. Once within, we 
were bidden to make our choice, and a 
merry time we had of it. But finally 
we had all decided on our preferences, 
and passed out of the shop, each child 
carrying home a reminder of our bene- 
factor's generosity." 

Another instance of Mr. Stevenson's 
love of childhood is seen in the aflec- 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



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THE LITTLE PRINCESS KAIULANI, DAUGHTER OF GOVERNOR CLEG- 
HORN AND HIS WIFE, PRINCESS LIKE-LIKE. HER DEPARTURE 
FOR SCHOOL IN ENGLAND WAS MADE EASIER FOR HER TO 
BEAR BY STEVENSON'S SPLENDID TALES OF TRAVEL AND 
ADVENTURE THAT HE TOLD TO HER UNDER THE GREAT 
BANYAN TREE IN FRONT OF HER HOME 



tionate regard in which the writer held 
Princess Kaiulani. This child, daughter 
of Governor Cleghorn and Princess 
Like-like, had begun preparations for her 
departure to a school in England when 
the novelist and his family arrived, but 
at the end of the four months that in- 
tervened they were bound by ties of 
friendship. 



After the death of her mother the 
little maid had lived with her father and 
the attendants of the household, in the 
seclusion of her home at Ainahau^ an old 
mansion lost in the tropical fprest by 
which it was surrounded. Here, in the 
late afternoon, when the quiet was 
broken only by the cry of the peacocks 
piercing the grove with their strident 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



119 



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A "POl" FEAST. POI IS THE STAPLE FOOD OF THE HAWAIIANS^ A GLUTINOUS SUBSTANCE OF 
POUNDED TARO, SLIGHTLY FERMENTED. FROM LEFT TO RIGHT: MR. STEVENSON, HER ROYAL 
HIGHNESS PRINCESS LILIUOKALANI, HIS MAJESTY KING KALAKAUA, MRS. R. L. STEVENSON 



note, and the voices of birds pulsated 
through the thicket, the little maid, at 
the approach of a familiar figure down 
the long drive, would hasten forward 
with a smile of welcome, to walk back 
with her hand in that of her friend. 
And under the great banyan tree before 
the portals of the house^ where often 
the comrades of Governor Cleghorn 
gathered for tea, the child would listen 
to splendid tales of travel and adventure 
invented for her by Robert Louis Steven- 
son, who sought thus to inspire her 
timid heart with courage, and to blunt 
the keen unhappiness she felt at the 
prospect of separation from her father. 
It was then that, moved by his affec- 
tion for the child, Mr. Stevenson wrote 
for her the following verse : 

Forth from her land to mine she goes, 
The island maid, the island rose, 
Light of heart and bright of face; 
The daughter of a double race. 



Her islands here, in southern sun. 
Shall mourn their Kaiulani gone. 
And I, in her dear banyan's shade. 
Look vainly for my little maid. 
But our Scots islands far away 
Shall glitter with unwonted day. 
And cast for once their tempests by 
To smile in Kaiulani's eye. 

"Written in April to Kaiulani, in the 
April of her age, and at Waikiki, within 
easy walk of Kaiulani*s banyan. When 
she comes to my land and her father's 
and the rain beats upon the window (as 
I fear it will) let her look at this page; 
it will be like a weed gathered and 
pressed at home, and she will remember 
her own islands, and the shadow of the 
mighty tree, and she will hear the pea- 
cocks screaming in the dusk and she 
will think of her father sitting there 
alone." — R. L. S. 

But many changes were fated to occur. 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



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PRINCESS KAIULANI ON HER RETURN FROM ENGLAND, WHERE SHE HAD BEEN EDUCATED TO ASSUME 
THE RESPONSIBILITIES OF ROYALTY. HER HOPES PERISHED WITH THE HOPES OF HER PEOPLE 



The child, educated to assume the re- 
sponsibilities of royalty, returned to her 
native land, where her young life, blos- 
soming into womanhood, withered in 
the bud and perished with the hopes of 
her people; where her father, grieving 
in the sunset of his years, meditated in 
his loneliness on the uprooting of the old 
traditions and the passing of his most 
cherished dreams. 

The estate of Governor Cleghorn, be- 
queathed to the government for a pub- 
lic park at his death, some years ago, 
and rejected by reason of certain condi- 
tions included in the will, was later 
converted into a family hotel, and the 
tract, now on the market as bungalow 
sites, has been completely despoiled of 
its historical associations. 

The necessity for retirement and work 
on the part of Mr. Stevenson weighed 
heavily upon him, and the frequent in- 
terruptions to which he was subjected 
at Manuia — always inviting to the 
passer-by with its rustic garden-house 
and its informal cup of tea — led the 
author to determine upon a reception 
day, when he and his family would be 



at home to friends. At the same time 
an offer of securing the adjoining resi- 
dence of Mr. Frank Brown was pre- 
sented to Mr. Stevenson, who prepared 
forthwith to move into the new quarters, 
with its comfortable house, its cottages 
and spacious lawns. 

One morning, before the departure 
of her guests, Mrs. Bush, who had been 
spending the week-end at the beach, was 
confronted, on awakening, by a heap of 
birthday gifts on her dressing-table, in- 
cluding a remembrance from every mem- 
ber of the Stevenson family. The token 
from the author, a trifle appreciated at 
the time, has long since been forgotten, 
but the typewritten lines over his signa- 
ture by which it was introduced are re- 
membered still with grateful affection, 
for, on folded pages of correspondence 
paper, faded and crumpled from tender 
handling, which are graciously brought 
out for the inspection of visitors, the 
following verses appear : 

Dear lady, tapping at your door 

Some little verses stand, 
And beg on this auspicious day 

To come and kiss your hand; 



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Stevenson in Hawaii 



121 



Their syllables all counted right, 
Their rhymes each in its place, 

Like birthday children at the door, 
They want to see your face. 

Rise, lady, rise and let them in, 

Fresh from the fairy shore; 
They bring you things you wish to have. 

Each in its pinafore. 
For^ they have been to Wishing Land 

This morning in the dew, 
And all your dearest wishes bring. 

All granted home to you. 

What these may be they would not tell. 

And could not if they would; 
They take the packets sealed to you 

As trusted servants should; 
But there was one that looked like love. 

And one that smelt like health. 
And one that had a jingling sound, 

I fancy might be wealth. 



Ah, well, they are but wishes still; 

But, lady dear, for you 
I know that all you wish is kind; 

Lp.ray it all come true. 

Robert Louis Stevenson. 

One of the gifts most treasured by 
Mrs. Bush was a dress pattern of hand- 
some black brocade, presented to her by 
Mr. Stevenson^s mother. It was only 
on the rarest occasions during her life 
that Mrs. Bush could be persuaded to 
wear the gown, and in the fulfilment of 
her wish she was laid away in it on 
her death in 19 15. 

Although the residence of Mr. Brown, 
where the Stevensons lived in Honolulu, 
afterward became the property of the 
late Judge Hart when the site was sub- 
divided, the houses that sheltered the 
author and his family have undergone 




STILL STANDING ON EMMA STREET, HONOLULU. IS THE HOME OF 
MRS. CAROLINE BUSH. VT NOW ADJOINS A PRETENTIOUS HOS- 
TELRY TO WHICH IT BEARS A HUMBLE CONTRAST IN ITS OLD- 
FASHIONED GARDEN OF TROPICAL TREES. IT WAS MRS. BUSH 
WHOSE HOSPITALITY AND SOCIAL PRESTIGE INTRODUCED MR. 
AND MRS. STRONG TO COURT LIFE 



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122 



Stevenson in Hawaii 




AN EVENING WITH A FELLOW SCOT. MR. MCPHERSON OF THE KILAUEA PLANTATION IS TELLING 
A FUNNY STORY. THIS IS THE INTERIOR OF THE COTTAGE IN HAWAII, WHERE MR. STEVENSON 
HAD SPENT THIS ENTIRE DAY AT WORK UPON A MANUSCRIPT 



few alterations. The outbuildings have 
been moved, fences now separating them 
from the main building, but the general 
appearance is unchanged. 

At that time there were two cottages 
in the grounds, the one near the beach 
being used by Mr. Strong as a studio^ 
the Other, facing the road, becoming the 
hermitage of Mr. Stevenson. This cot- 
tage consisted of but one room, rustic 
and charming without, covered with a 
flowering passion-vine in its grove of 
oleanders, but humble indeed within, 
with newspapers pasted over white 
plaster and cracks impossible of con- 
cealment. 

It was here, often indisposed and con- 
fined to his cot, that the author wrote 
the closing chapters of The Master of 
Ballantrae; here that his closest friends, 
dropping in of an evening, often 
glimpsed him through the broken win- 
dow, chatting gayly to some fellow Scot 
or playfully "tooling" on a flageolet, his 
evening paper open on his knees. 



These were quiet days for Robert 
Louis Stevenson. His delicate health 
steadily improved in the restful atmos- 
phere of his Waikiki home, sheltered 
from intrusion, but open always to 
friends, who, driving by, frequently 
dropped in for a sociable hour. Perhaps 
it would be some warm afternoon — the 
author having left his workshop for the 
more comfortable shade of the lanai* — 
that some welcome guest would find 
him, listening in detached silence, pencil 
in hand, to the chit-chat of his family. 
Or it might be during an evening of 
music, when he who happened in would 
be expected to contribute his share of 
the entertainment. 

On such an evening, after a merry 
little dinner at the Stevenson home, Pro- 
fessor Scott, an exceedingly amiable but 

•The al fresco living-room of the family, 
decorated with hanging-baskets and tropical 
plants in great profusion, was one of the 
most attractive features of the old-fashioned 
homes of Honolulu. 



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123 




AN EVENING OF MUSIC AT THE STEVENSON HOME. THE PARTY HAD HAD A MERRY LITTLE DINNER 
AT WHICH PROFESSOR SCOTT WAS PRESENTED WITH A PENNY WHISTLE FOR THE ORCHESTRA. 
FROM LEFT TO RIGHT, STANDING: PROFESSOR M. M. SCOTT, OF THE UNIVERSITY OF TOKIO, MR. 
LLOYD OSBOURNE, CAPTAIN OTIS OF THE YACHT CaSCO, AND MR. HENRY POOR. SEATED: MR. 
STEVENSON, MRS. STEVENSON, MRS. JOSEPH STRONG AND "MOTHER" STEVENSON 



august gentleman, calling on the author, 
suddenly found himself hailed by the 
assembled guests as the missing member 
of their orchestra, and, accepting the 
penny whistle proffered him, proceeded 
to provide more fun than music to de- 
light his appreciative audience. 

"It was when I was teaching in the 
University of Tokio that I first became 
personally interested in Robert Louis 
Stevenson," said Professor Scott in a 
recent interview, "when one of my 
friends, remarking that he had been a 
classmate of the author at the Univer- 
sity of Edinburgh, entertained me for 
the greater part of an evening by re- 
counting incidents in Stevenson's career. 

"Some years later in Honolulu my 
wife and I became acquainted with Mr. 
and Mrs. Strong. They had engaged 
a cottage in our neighbourhood, and as 
we found them exceedingly clever and 
interesting, we soon became the best of 



friends. It was in our home that Mrs. 
Strong spent most of her time during 
her husband's absence in Samoa, and it 
was she who, after the arrival of the 
Casco, presented us to her step-father, 
Mr. Stevenson. 

"I shall never forget the pleasant 
hours I spent thereafter over the tea- 
cups with the family. They were so 
original and so interesting! Mother 
Stevenson I recall with particular de- 
light, so prim a figure in her black silk 
gown and widow's bonnet, silently sew- 
ing or knitting, in perfect unconcern 
in the midst of their playful pranks. 

"I recall, too, one evening," con- 
tinued Professor Scott, "when, in a dis- 
cussion with Mr. Stevenson about the 
poem he had written for His Majesty, 
I made bold to remark that, although 
he might have conceived it as original, 
the idea of the golden hands of the King, 
whence in the old days all bounty was 



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1 24 Evensong 

supposed to flow, seemed suggestive to read a single line of Anglo-Saxon poetry 

me of the Anglo-Saxon poems. in my life!' 

"But at this his fine eyes burned. "And in the laughter that followed 

" *Why, man,' he exclaimed, leaning the writer joined as heartily as the 

forward in genuine surprise, *I never rest.*' 

(To be continued.) 



EVENSONG 

BY NORREYS JEPHSON O'CONOR 

O SHEF herds' Piping, herald of the Night 
Who comes with Silence up the coloured vale. 
Treading how gently, clad in greyish white; 
Poignantly, Piping, sound your reedy wail ! 
For Day departed moves in funeral train 
Tended by Twilight, and, in deepest rose. 
The splendid Sunset melts beneath the main 
While sweet the sea-wind with, cool softness blows. 
As when a mother gathers to her breast- 
A child Who frets for Day's remembered smart, 
Now light fades quickly in the ashen west, 
And Night-peace falls across my troubled heart. 
Flutes, for the night through let my mind be still. 
And God keep safe with Him my stubborn will! 



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THE ADVANCE OF ENGLISH POETRY 
IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 

BY WILLIAM LYON PHELPS 

Part I 

Meaning of the word ''advance* — the present widespread interest in poetry — 
the spiritual warfare — Henley and Thompson — Thomas Hardy a prophet in litera- 
ture — "The Dynasts" — his atheism — Am lyrical power — Kipling the Victorian — his 
future possibilities — Robert W. Service. 



Although English poetry of the twen- 
tieth century seems distinctly inferior to 
the poetry of the Victorian epoch, for 
in England there is no one equal to 
Tennyson or Browning, and in America 
no one equal to Poe, Emerson, or Whit- 
man, still it may fairly be said that we 
can discern an adyance in English 
poetry not wholly to be measured either 
by the calendar and the clock, or by 
sheer beauty of expression. I should not 
like to say that Joseph Conrad is a 
greater writer than Walter Scott; and 
yet in The Nigger of the Narcissus 
there is an intellectual sincerity, a pro- 
found psychological analysis, a resolute 
intention to discover and to reveal the 
final truth concerning the children of 
the sea, that one would hardly expect 
to find in the works of the wonderful 
Wizard. Shakespeare was surely a 
greater poet than Wordsworth; but the 
man of the Lakes, with the rich inheri- 
tance of two centuries, had a capital of 
thought unpossessed by the great drama- 
tist, which, invested by his own genius, 
enabled him to draw returns from na- 
ture undreamed of by his mighty prede- 
cessor. Wordsworth was not great 
enough to have written King Lear; and 
Shake^eare was not late enough to have 
written Tintern Abbey. Every poet 
lives in his own time, has a share in its 
scientific and philosophical advance, and 
his individuality is coloured by his ex- 
perience. Even if he take a Greek 
m3rth for a subject, he will rc^rd it and 
treat it in the light of the day when he 



sits down at his desk, and addresses 
himself to the task of composition. It is 
absurd to call the Victorians old-fash- 
ioned or out of date; they were as in- 
tensely modern as we, only their mg- 
dernity is naturally not ours. 

A great work of art is never old-fash- 
ioned ; because it expresses in final form 
some truth about human nature, and 
human nature never changes — in com- 
parison with its primal elements, the 
mountains are ephemeral. A drama 
dealing with the impalpable human soul 
is more likely to stay true than a treat- 
ise on geology. This is the notable ad- 
vantage that works of art have over 
works of science, the advantage of being 
and remaining true. No matter how 
important the contribution of scientific 
books, they arc alloyed with inevitable 
error, and after the death of their au- 
thors must be constantly revised by lesser 
men, improved by smaller minds; 
whereas the masterpieces of ^ poetry, 
drama and fiction cannot be revised, be- 
cause they arc always true. The latest 
edition of a work of science is the most 
valuable; of literature, the earliest. 

Apart from the natural and inevitable 
advance in poetry that every year wit- 
nesses, we are living in an age character- 
ised both in England and in America 
by a remarkable advance in poetry as a 
vital influence. Earth's oldest inhabi- 
tants probably cannot remember a time 
when there were so many poets in ac- 
tivity, when so many books of poems 
were not only read, but bought and 



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1 26 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



sold, when poets were held in such high 
esteem, when so much was written and 
published about poetry, when the mere 
forms of verse were the theme of such 
hot debate. There are thousands of 
minor poets, but poetry has ceased to be 
a minor subject. Anyone mentally alive 
cannot escape it. Poetry is in the air, and 
everybody is catching it. Some Ameri- 
can magazines arc exclusively devoted to 
the printing of contemporary poems; 
anthologies are multiplying, not '^Keep- 
sakes" and "Books of Gems," but thick 
volumes representing the bumper crop 
of the year. Many poets are reciting 
their poems to big, eager^ enthusiastic 
audiences, and the atmosphere is charged 
with the melodies of ubiquitous min- 
strelsy. 

The time is ripe for the appearance of 
a great poet. A vast audience is gazing 
expectantly at a stage crowded with sub- 
ordinate actors, waiting for the Master 
to appear. The Greek dramatists were 
sure of their public; so were the Russian 
novelists; so were the German musi- 
cians. The "conditions" "for poetry are 
now perfect in England and in Amer- 
ica. We have got everything except 
the Genius. And the paradox is that 
although the Genius may arise out of 
happy conditions, he may not; he may 
come like a thief in the night. The con- 
trast between public interest in poetry 
in 191 7 and in 1830, for an illustra- 
tion, is unescapable. At that time the 
critics and the magazine writers assured 
the world that "poetry is dead." Am- 
bitious young authors were gravely ad- 
vised not to attempt anything in verse 
— as though youth ever listened to ad- 
vice 1 Many critics went so far as to 
insist that the temper of the age was not 
"adapted" to poetry, that not only was 
there no interest in it, but that even if 
the Man should appear^ he would find 
it impossible to sing in such a time and 
to such a coldly indifferent audience. 
And yet at that precise moment, Ten- 
nyson launched his "chiefly lyrical" vol- 
ume, and Browning was speedily to fol- 
low. 

Man is ever made humble by the facts 



of life; and even literary critics cannot 
altogether ignore them. Let us not 
then make the mistake of being too sure 
of the immediate future ; nor the mistake 
of overestimating our contemporary 
poets; nor the mistake of despising the 
giant Victorians. Let us devoutly thank 
God that poetry has come into its own; 
that the modem poet, in public estima- 
tion, is a Hero; that no one has to 
apologise either for reading or for writ- 
ing verse. An age that loves poetry with 
the passion characteristic of the twen- 
tieth century is not a flat or materialistic 
age. We are not disobedient unto the 
heavenly vision. 

Whatever may be the modem atti- 
tude toward military warfare, in the 
world of thought and spirit this is es- 
sentially a fighting age. The old battle 
between the body and the soul, between 
Paganism and Christianity, was never 
so hot as now, and those who take refuge 
in neutrality receive contempt. Pan and 
Jesus Christ have never had so many 
followers, all volunteers. The Chris- 
tians insist their Leader rose from the 
dead, and the followers of Pan say their 
god never died at all. It is significant 
that at the beginning of the twentieth 
century two English poets wrote side by 
side, each of whom unconsciously 
waged an irreconcilable conflict with the 
other, and each of whom speaks from 
the grave to-day to a great concourse of 
followers. These two poets did not 
"flourish" in the twentietfi century, be- 
cause the disciple of the bodily Pan was 
a cripple, and the disciple of the spirit- 
ual Christ was a gutter-snipe; but 
they both lived, lived abundantly, and 
wrote real poetry. I refer to William 
Ernest Henley, who died in 1903, and 
to Francis Thompson, who died in 
1907. 

Both Henley and Thompson loved the 
crowded streets of London, but they saw 
different visions there. Henley felt in 
the dust and din of the city the irresis- 
tible urge of spring, the invasion of the 
smell of distant meadows; the hurly- 
burly bearing witness to the annual con- 
quest of Pan. 



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Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 127 



Here in this radiant and immortal street 
Lavishly and omnipotently as ever 
In the open hills, the undissembling dales, 
The laughing-places of the juvenile earth. 
For lo! the wills of man and woman meet, 
Meet and are moved, each unto each en- 
deared 
As once in Eden's prodigal bowers befel. 
To share his shameless, elemental mirth 
In one great act of faith, while deep and 

strong. 
Incomparably nerved and cheered, 
The enormous heart of London joys to beat 
To the measures of his rough, majestic 

song: 
The lewd, perennial, overmastering spell 
That keeps the rolling universe ensphered 
And life and all for which life lives to long 
Wanton and wondrous and for ever well. 

The London Voluntaries of Henley, 
from which the above is a fair example, 
may have suggested something to Vachel 
Lindsay both in their irregular singing 
quality and in the direction, borrowed 
from notation, which accompanies each 
one, Andante con mo to, Scherzando, 
Largo e mesto, Allegro maestoso, Hen- 
ley's Pagan resistance to Puritan morali- 
ty and convention, constantly exhibited 
positively in his verse, and negatively in 
his defiant Introduction to the Works 
of Burns and in the famous paper on 
R. L. S., is the main characteristic of 
his mind and temperament. He was by 
nature a rebel — a rebel against the 
Anglican God and against English so- 
cial conventions. He loved all fighting 
rebels, and one of his most spirited poems 
deals affectionately with our Southern 
Confederate soldiers, in the last days of 
their hopeless struggle. His most famous 
lyric is an assertion of the indomitable 
human will in the presence of adverse 
destiny. This trumpet blast has awak- 
ened sympathetic echoes from all sorts 
and conditions of men, although that 
creedless Christian, James Whitcomb 
Riley, regarded it with genial contempt, 
thinking that the philosophy it repre- 
sented was not only futile, but danger- 
ous, in that it ignored the deepest facts 
of human life. He once asked to have 



the poem read aloud to him, as he had 
forgotten its exact words, and when the 
reader finished impressively 

I am the Master of my fate: 
I am the Captain of my soul — 

"The hell you are," said Riley with a 
laugh. 

Henley is, of course, interesting not 
merely because of his paganism, and 
robust worldliness; he was a true poet, 
with the poet's imagination and gift of 
expression. He loved to take a familiar 
idea fixed in a familiar phrase, and 
write a lovely musical variation on the 
theme. I do not think he ever wrote 
anything more beautiful than his setting 
of the phrase "Over the hills and far 
away," which appealed to his memory 
mudi as the three words "Far-far-away" 
affected Tennyson. No one can read 
this little masterpiece without that won- 
derful sense of melody lingering in the 
mind after the voice of the singer is 
silent. 

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade 

On desolate sea and lonely sand. 
Out of the silence and the shade 

What is the voice of strange command 
Calling you still, as friend calls' friend 

With love that cannot brook delay. 
To rise and follow the ways that wend 

Over the hills and far away? 

Hark in the city, street on street 

A roaring reach of death and life, 
Of vortices that clash and fleet 

And ruin in appointed strife. 
Hark to it calling, calling clear. 

Calling until you cannot stay 
From dearer things than your own most dear 

Over the hills and far away. 

Out of the sound of ebb and flow, 

Out of the sight of lamp and star. 
It calls you where the good winds blow, 

And the unchanging meadows are: 
From faded hopes and hopes agleam, 

It calls you, calls you night and day 
Beyond the dark into the dream 

Over the hills and far away. 

In temperament Henley was an Eliza- 
bethan. Ben Jonson might have irri- 



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128 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



tated him, but he would have got along 
very well with Kit Marlowe. He was 
an Elizabethan in the spaciousness of 
his mind, in his robust salt-water breezi- 
ness, in his hearty^ spontaneous singing, 
and in his deification of the human will. 
The English novelist, Miss Willcocks, 
who is completely a child of the 
twentieth century, has remarked, "It is 
by their will that we recognise the 
Elizabethans, by the will that drove 
them over the seas of passion, as well as 
over the seas that ebb and flow with the 
salt tides. . . . For, from a sensitive 
correspondence with environment our 
race has passed into another stage; it is 
marked now by a passionate desire for 
the mastery of life — a desire^ spiritual- 
ised in the highest lives, materialised in 
the lowest, so to mould environment that 
the lives to come may be shaped to our 
will. It is this whidi accounts for the 
curious likeness in our to-day with that 
of the Elizabethans." 

As Henley was an Elizabethan, so his 
brilliant contemporary, Francis Thomp- 
son was a "metaphysical," a man of the 
seventeenth century. Like Emerson, he 
is closer in both form and spirit to the 
mystical poets that followed the age of 
Shakespeare than he is to any other 
group or school. One has only to read 
Donne, Crashaw, and Vaughan to recog- 
nise the kinship. Like these three men 
of genius^ Thompson was not only pro- 
foundly spiritual — ^he was aflame with 
religious passion. He was exalted in a 
mystical ecstasy, all a wonder and a wild 
desire. He was indubitably an inspired 
poet, careless of method, careless of 
form, careless of thought-sequences. The 
zeal for God's house had eaten him up. 
His poetry is like the burning bush, re- 
vealing God in the fire. His strange 
figures of speech, the molten metal of his 
language, the profound sincerity of his 
faith, have given to his poems a per- 
suasive influence which is beginning to 
be felt far and wide, and which, I be- 
lieve, will never die. Alfred Noyes 
complains that the young men of Ox- 
ford and Cambridge have forsaken Ten- 
nyson, and now read only Francis 



Thompson. He need not be alarmed; 
these young men will all come back to 
Tennyson, for sooner or later, every- 
body comes back to Tennyson. It is 
rather a matter for joy that Thompson's 
religious poetry can make the hearts of 
young men burn within them. Young 
men are right in hating conventional, 
empty phrases, words that have lost all 
hitting power, hollow forms and blood- 
less ceremonies. Thompson's lips were 
touched with a live coal from the altar. 
Francis Thompson walked with God. 
Instead of seeking God, as so many high- 
minded folk have done in vain, Thomp- 
son had the real and overpowering sen- 
sation that God was seeking him. The 
Hound of Heaven was everlastingly 
after him, pursuing him with the cer- 
tainty of capture. In trying to escape, 
he found torment; in surrender, the 
peace that passes all understanding. 
That extraordinary poem, which thrill- 
ingly describes the eager, searching love 
of God, like a father looking for a lost 
child and determined to find him, might 
be taken as a modern version of the one 
hundred and thirty-ninth psalm, perhaps 
the most marvellous of all religious mas- 
terpieces. 

Thou compassest my path and my lying 

down, and art acquainted with all my 

ways. 
Thou hast beset me behind and before, and 

laid thine hand upon me. 
Whither shall I go from thy spirit? or 

whither shall I flee from thy presence? 
If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there; 

if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou 

art there. 
If I take the wings of the morning, and 

dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea; 
Even there shall thy hand lead me, and thy 

right hand shall hold me. 

The highest spiritual poetry is not 
that which portrays soul-hunger, the 
bitterness of the weary search for 
God; it is that which reveals an 
intense consciousness of the all-envelop- 
ing Divine Presence. Children do not 
seek the love of their parents ; they can- 



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Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 1 29 



not escape its searching, eager, protect- 
ing power. We know how Dr. Johnson 
was affected by the lines 

Quaerens me sedisti lassus 
Redemisti crucem passus 
Tantus labor non ait passus. 

Francis Thompson's daily walks by day 
and by night had magnificent company. 
In the country, in the streets of London, 
he was attended by seraphim and cheru- 
bim. The heavenly visions were more 
real to him than London Bridge. Just 
as •when we travel far from those we 
love, we are intensely aware of their 
presence, and know that their affection 
is a greater reality than the scenery from 
the train window, so Thompson would 
have it that the angels were all about 
us. They do not live in some distant 
Paradise, the only gate to which is death 
—they are here now, and their element 
is the familiar atmosphere of earth. 

Shortly after he died, there was found 
among his papers a bit of manuscript 
verse, called "In No Strange Land." 
Whether it was a first draft which he 
meant to revise, or whether he intended 
it for publication, we cannot tell; but 
despite the roughnesses of rhythm — 
which take us back to some of Donne's 
shaggy and splendid verse — ^the thought 
is complete. It is one of the great poems 
of the twentieth century, and expresses 
the essence of Thompson's religion. 

"IN NO STRANGE LAND" 

O world invisible, we view thee: 
O world intangible, we touch thee: 

O world unknowable, we know thee: 
Inapprehensible, we clutch thee I 

Does the fish soar to find the ocean. 
The eagle plunge to find the air, 

That we ask of the stars in motion 
If they have rumour of thee there? 

Not where the wheeling systems darken. 
And our benumbed conceiving soars: 

The drift of pinions, would we harken. 
Beats at our own clay-shuttered doors. 

The angels keep their ancient places — 
Turn but a stone, and start a wingl 



'Tis ye, 'tis your estrange faces 
That miss the many-splendoured thing. 

But (when so sad thou canst not sadder) 
Cry; and upon thy so sore loss 

Shall shine the traffic of Jacob's ladder 
Pitched betwixt Heaven and Charing 
Cross. 

Yea, in the night, my Soul, my daughter. 
Cry, clinging heaven by the hems: 

And lo, Christ walking on the water, 
Not of Genesareth, but Thames! 

There is a man of genius living in 
England to-day who has been writing 
verse for nearly sixty years, but who re- 
ceived no public recognition as a poet 
until the twentieth century. This man 
is Thomas Hardy. He has the double 
distinction of being one of the great Vic- 
torian novelists, and one of the most 
notable poets oir the twentieth century. 
At nearly eighty years of age, he is in 
full intellectual vigour, enjoys a creative 
power in verse that we more often asso- 
ciate with youth, and writes poetry that 
in matter and manner belongs distinctly 
to our time. He could not possibly be 
omitted from any survey of contempo- 
rary production. 

As is so commonly the case with dis- 
tinguished novelists, Thomas Hardy 
practised verse before prose. From i860 
to 1870 he wrote many poems, some of 
which appear among the Love Lyrics in 
Timers Laughingstocks, 1909. Then he 
began a career in prose fiction which has 
left him to-day without a living rival in 
the world. In 1898, with the volume 
called fVessex Poems, embellished with 
illustrations from his own hand, he chal- 
lenged criticism as a professional poet. 
The moderate but definite success of this 
collection emboldened him to produce in 
1 90 1, Poems of the Past and Pres- 
ent. In 1904, 1906, 1908, were is- 
sued successively the three parts of The 
Dynasts, a thoroughly original and 
greatly planned epical drama of the 
Napoleonic wars. This was followed 
by two books of verse. Time's Laugh- 
ingstocks in 1909, and Satires of Cir^ 
cumstance, 19 1 4; and he is a familiar 



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130 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



and welcome guest in contemporary 
magazines. 

Is it possible that when^ at the close 
of the nineteenth century, Thomas 
Hardy formally abandoned prose for 
verse, he was either consciously or sub- 

J consciously aware of the coming renais- 
sance of poetry? Certainly his change 
in expression had more significance than 
an individual caprice. It is a notable 
fact that the present poetic revival, 
wherein are enlisted so many enthusi- 
astic youthful volunteers, should have 
had as one of its prophets and leaders 
a veteran of such power and fame. Per- 
haps Mr. Hardy would regard his own 
personal choice as no factor; the Imma- 
nent and Unconscious Will had been 
busy in his mind, for reasons unknown 
to him, unknown to man, least of all 
known to Itself. Leslie Stephen once 
remarked^ "The deepest thinker is not 
really — though we often use the phrase 
— in advance of his day so much as in 
the line along which advance takes 
place." 

Looking backward from the year 
191 7, we may see some new meaning in 
the spectacle of two modern leaders in 
fiction, Hardy and Meredith, each pre- 
ferring as a means of expression poetry 
to prose, each thinking his own verse 
better than his novels, and each writing 
verse that in substance and manner be- 
longs more to the twentieth than to the 
nineteenth century. Meredith always 
said that fiction was his kitchen wench; 
poetry was his Muse. 

The publication of poems written 
when he was about twenty-five is inter- 
esting to students of Mr. Hardy's tem- 
perament, for they prove that he was 
then as complete, though perhaps not so 
philosophical a pessimist, as he is now. 
The present world-war may seem to him 
^ a vindication of his despair^ and there- 
fore perhaps not so shocking as to those 
who pray to Our Father in Heaven. He 
is, though I think not avowedly so^ an 
adherent of the philosophy of Schopen- 
hauer and von Hartmann. The primal 
force, from which all things proceed, is 
the Immanent Will. The Will is un- 



conscious and omnipotent. It is super- 
human only in power, lacking intelli- 
gence, foresight, and any sense of ethical 
values. In The Dynasts, Mr. Hardy 
has written an epical illustration of the 
doctrines of German pessimism. 

Supernatural machinery and celestial 
inspiration have always been more or 
less conventional in the Epic. Ancient 
writers invoked the Muse. When Mil- 
ton began his great task^ he wished to 
produce something classic in form and 
Christian in spirit. He found an ad- 
mirable solution of his problem in a 
double invocation — first of the Heavenly 
Muse of Mount Sinai, second, of the 
Holy Spirit. In the composition of In 
Mcmoriam, Tennyson knew that an in- 
vocation of the Muse would give an 
intolerable air of artificiality to the 
poem; he therefore, in the introductory 
stanzas, offered up a prayer to the Son 
of God. Now it was impossible for Mr. 
Hardy to make any use of Greek Dei- 
ties, or of Jehovah, or of any revelation 
of God in Christ; to his mind all three 
equally belonged to the lumber-room of 
discredited and discarded myth. He be- 
lieves that any conception of the Primal 
Force as a Personality is not only obso- 
lete among thinking men and women, 
but that it is unworthy of modern 
thought. It is perhaps easy to mistake 
our own world of thought for the 
thought of the world. 

In his Preface, written with assurance 
and dignity, Mr. Hardy says: "The 
wide prevalence of the Monistic theory 
of the Universe forbade, in this twen- 
tieth century, the importation of Divine 
personages from any antique Mythology 
as ready-made sources or channels of 
Causation, even in verse, and excluded 
the celestial machinery of, say, Paradise 
Lost, as peremptorily as that of the Iliad 
or the Eddas. And the abandonment of 
the masculine pronoun in allusions to 
the First or Fundamental Energy 
seemed a necessary and logical conse- 
quence of the long abandonment by 
thinkers of the anthropomorphic con- 
ception of the same." Accordingly he 
arranged a group of Phantom Intelli- 



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Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 1 3 1 



gences that at once supply adequately a 
Chorus and a philosophical basis for his 
world-drama. 

Like Browning in the original preface 
to Paracelsus, our author expressly dis- 
claims any intention of writing a play 
for the stage. It is ''intended simply 
for mental performance," and "Whether 
mental performance alone may not 
eventually be the fate of all drama 
other than that of contemporary or 
frivolous life, is a kindred question not 
without interest." The question has 
been since answered in another way 
than that implied, not merely by the 
success of community drama, but by the 
actual production of The Dynasts on 
the London stage under the direction of 
the brilliant and audacious Granville 
Barker. I would have given much to 
have witnessed this experiment, which 
Mr. Barker insists was strikingly 
successful. 

Whether The Dynasts will finally 
take a place among the world's master- 
pieces of literature or not, must of 
course be left to future generations to 
decide. Two things are clear. The 
publication of the second and third parts 
distinctly raised public opinion of the 
work as a whole, and now that it is ten 
years old, we know that no man on earth 
except Mr. Hardy could have written 
it. To produce this particular work 
required a poet, a prose master, a drama- 
tist, a philosopher, and an architect. 
Mr. Hardy is each and all of the five, 
and by no means least an architect. The 
plan of the whole thing, in one hundred 
and thirty scenes, which seemed at first 
confused, now appears in retrospect or- 
derly; and the projection of the various 
geographical scenes is thoroughly archi- 
tectonic. 

If the work fails to survive, it will 
be because of its low elevation on the 
purely literary side. In spite of occa- 
sional powerful phrases, as 

What corpse is curious on the longitude 
And situation of his cemetery! 

the verse as a whole wants beauty of 
tone and felicity of diction. It is more 



like a map than a painting. One has 
only to recall the extraordinary charm of 
the Elizabethans to understand why so 
many pages in The Dynasts arouse only 
an intellectual interest. But no one can 
read the whole drama without an im* 
mense respect for the range and the 
grasp of the author's mind. Further- 
more, every one of its former admirers 
ought to reread it in 191 7. The pres- 
ent world war gives to this Napoleonic 
epic an acute and prophetic interest 
nothing short of astounding. 

A considerable number of Mr. 
Hardy's poems are concerned with the 
idea of God, apparently never far from 
the author's mind. I suppose he thinks 
of God every day. Yet his faith is the 
opposite of that expressed in the "Hound 
of Heaven" — ^in few words, it seems to 
be, "Resist the Lord, and He will flee 
from you." Mr. Hardy is not content 
with banishing God from the realm of 
modem thought ; he is not content 
merely with killing Him; he means to 
give Him a decent burial, with fitting 
obsequies. And there is a long proces- 
sion of mourners, some of whom are 
both worthy and distinguished. In the 
interesting poem, "God's Funeral," writ- 
ten in 1908-1910, which begins 

I saw a slowly stepping train— 
Lined on the brows, scoop-eyed- and bent 

and hoar- 
Following in files across a twilit plain 
A strange and mystic form the foremost bore 

the development of the conception of 
God through human history is presented 
with great skill in concision. He was 
man-like at first, then an amorphous 
cloud, then endowed with mighty 
wings, then jealous, fierce, yet long-suf- 
fering and full of mercy. 

And, tricked by our own early dream 
And need of solace, we grew 8elf*d«eeiv«d, 
Our making soon our maker did we dream» 
And what we had imagined we believed. 

Till, in Time's stayless stealthy swing. 
Uncompromising rude reality 
Mangled the Monarch of our fashioning, 



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132 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



Who quavered, sank; and now has ceased 
to be. 

Among the mourners is no less a person 
than the poet himself, for in former 
years — perhaps as a boy — ^he, too, had 
worshipped, and therefore he has no 
touch of contempt for those who still 
believe. 

I could not prop their faith: and yet 
Many I had known : with all I sympathised ; 
And though struck speechless, I did not 

forget 
That what was mourned for, I, too, once 

had prized. 

In the next stanza, the poet's oft-ex- 
pressed belief in the wholesome, antisep- 
tic power of pessimism is reiterated, to- 
gether with a hint, that when we have 
once and for all put God in His grave, 
some better way of bearing life's burden 
will be found, because the new way will 
be based upon hard fact. 

Still, how to bear such loss I deemed 
The insistent question for each animate mind. 
And gazing, to my growing sight there 

seemed 
A pac# yet positive gleam low down behind, 

Whereof, to lift the general night, 
A certain few who stood aloof had said, 
"See you upon the horizon that small light — 
Swelling somewhat?" Each mourner shook 

his head. 

And they composed a crowd of whom 
Some were right good, and many nigh the 

best . . . 
Thus dazed and puzzled 'twixt the gleam 

and gloom 
Mechanically I followed with the rest. 

This pale gleam takes on a more vivid 
hue in a poem written shortly after 
"God's Funeral," called "A Plaint to 
Man," where God remonstrates with 
jnan for having created Him at all, since 
^is life was to be so short and so futile: 

And to-morrow the whole of me disappears. 
The truth should be told, and the fact be 

faced 
That had best been faced in earlier years: 



The fact of life with dependence placed 
On the human heart's resource alone, 
In brotherhood bonded close and graced 

With loving-kindness fully blown, 
And visioned help unsought, unknown. 

Other poems that express what is and 
what ought to be the attitude of man 
toward God are "New Year's Eve," "To 
Sincerity," and the beautiful lyric, "Let 
Me Enjoy," where Mr. Hardy has been 
more than usually successful in fashion- 
ing both language and rhythm into a 
garment worthy of the thought. No one 
can read "The Impercipient" without 
recognising that Mr. Hardy's atheism I 
is as honest and as sincere as the re-t 
ligious faith of a nun, and that no one) 
regrets the blankness of his universe 
more than he. He would believe if he 
could. 

Pessimism is the basis of all his verse, 
as it is of his prose. It is expressed not 
merely philosophically in poems of ideas, 
but over and over again concretely in 
poems of incident. He is a pessimist 
both in fancy and in fact^ and after 
reading some of our sugary "glad" 
books, I find his bitter taste rather re- 
freshing. The titles of his most recent 
collections, Timers Laughingstocks and 
Satires of Circumstance, sufficiently in- 
dicate the ill fortune awaiting his per- 
sonages. At his best, his lyrics written 
in the minor key have a noble, solemn 
adagio movement. At his worst — for 
like all poets, he is sometimes at his 
worst — the truth of life seems rather ob- 
stinately warped. Why should legiti- 
mate love necessarily bring misery, and 
illegitimate passion produce such perma- 
nent happiness? And in the piece, "Ah, 
are you digging on my grave?" pessi- 
mism approaches a reductio ad absurdum. 

Dramatic power, which is one of its 
author's greatest gifts, is frequently 
finely revealed. After reading "A 
Tramp-woman's Tragedy," one unhesi- 
tatingly accords Mr. Hardy a place 
among the English writers of ballads. 
For this is a genuine ballad, in story, in 
diction, and in vigour. 

Yet, as a whole^ and in spite of Mr. 



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Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 133 



Hardy's love of the dance and of dance 
music, his poetry lacks grace of move- 
^ ment. His war poem, "Men Who March 
Away," is singularly halting and awk- 
ward. His complete poetical works are 
interesting because they proceed from an 
interesting mind. His range of thought, 
bodi in reminiscence and in speculation, 
is immensely wide; his power of con- 
centration recalls that of Browning. 
I have thought sometimes, and thought long 

and hard, 
I have stood before, gone round a serious 

thing, 
Tasked my whole mind to touch and clasp 

it close, 
As I stretch forth my arm to touch this bar. 
God and man, and what duty I owe both, — 
I dare to say I have confronted these 
In thought: but no such faculty helped here. 

No such faculty alone could help Mr. 
Hardy to the highest peaks of poetry, 
any more than it served Caponsacchi in 
his spiritual crisis. He thinks interest- 
ing thoughts, because he has an original 
and a profound mind. It is possible to 
be a great poet without possessing much 
intellectual wealth; just as it is possible 
to be a great singer, and yet be both 
shallow and dull. The divine gift of 
poetry seems sometimes as accidental as 
the formation of the throat. I do not 
believe that Tennyson was either shal- 
low or dull; but I do not think he had 
anything like so good a mind as Thomas 
Hardy's, a mind so rich^ so original, so 
quaint, so humourous, so sharp. Yet 
Tennyson was incomparably a greater 
poet. 
J The greatest poetry always transports 
us, and although I read and reread the 
Wessex poet with never-lagging atten- 
tion — I find even die drawings in JVes^ 
sex Poems so fasdnating that I wish he 
had illustrated all his books — I am al- 
ways conscious of the time and the place. 
I never get the unmistakable spinal chill. 
He has too thorough a command of his 
thoughts; they never possess him, and 
»they never soar away with him. Prose 
may be controlled^ but poetry is a pos- 
session. Mr. Hardy is too keenly aware 



of what he is about. In spite of the fact 
that he has writen verse all his life, he 
seldom writes unwrinkled song. He is, 
in the last analysis, a master of prose 1 
who has learned the technique of verse, ' 
and who now chooses to express his 
thoughts and his observations in rime 
and rhythm. 

Rudyard Kipling is a Victorian poet, 
as Thomas Hardy is a Victorian novel- 
ist. When Tennyson djed in 1892, the 
world, with approximate unanimity, 
chose the young man from the East as 
his successor^ and for twenty-five years 
he has been the Laureate of the British V 
Empire in everything but the title. In 
the eighteenth century, when Gray re- 
garded the offer of the Laureateship as 
an insult, Mr. Alfred Austin might 
properly have been appointed; but after 
the fame of Southey, and the mighty 
genius of Wordswordi and of Tenny- 
son, it was cruel to put Alfred the Lit- 
tle in the chair of Alfred the Great. 
It was not an insult to Austin, but an 
insult to Poetry. With the elevation of 
the learned and amiable Dr. Bridges in 
191 3, the public ceased to care who 
holds the office. This eminently respect- 
able appointment silenced both applause 
and opposition. We can only echo the 
language of Gray's letter to Mason, 19 
DecemDer, 1757: "I interest myself a 
little in the history of it^ and rather 
wish somebody may accept it that will 
retrieve the credit of the thing, if it be 
retrievable, or ever had any credit. . . . 
The office itself has always humbled the 
professor hitherto (even in an age when 
kings were somebody), if he were a poor 
writer by making him more conspicu- 
ous, and if he were a good one by setting 
him at war with the little fry of his own 
profession, for there are poets little 
enough to envy even a poet-laureat." 
Mason was willing. 

Rudyard Kipling had the double 
qualification of poetic genius and off 
convinced Imperialism. He had re- 
ceived a formal accolade from the aged 
Tennyson, and could have carried on 
the tradition of British verse and Brit- 
ish arms. Lord Tennjrson himself was 



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1 34 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



not more of an Imperialist than Mr. 
Kipling; he believed religiously, as Mr. 
Kipling believes, in the beneficence of 
British conquests. Results have often 
seemed to justify this faith, even though 
the method may not always commend 
itself to foreign spectators. 

Walk wide o' the Widow at Windsor, 

For 'alf o' Creation she owns; 
We 'ave bought 'cr the same with the sword 
an' the flame, 
An' we've salted it down with our bones. 
(Poor beggars! — it's blue with our 
bones 1) 
Hands off o' the sons of the Widow, 
Hands off o' the .goods in 'er shop. 
For the Kings must come down an' the 
Emperors frown 
When the Widow at Windsor says "Stop !" 
(Poor beggars! — we're sent to say 
"Stop!"!) 

Nor has 'any Laureate, in the history 
of the office, risen any more magnifi- 
cently to an occasion than did Mr. Kip- 
ling at the sixtieth anniversary of the 
reign of the Queen. Each poet made 
his little speech in verse, and then at the 
dose of the ceremony, came the thrilling 
V Recessional, which received as instant 
applause from the world as if it had 
been spoken to an audience. In its 
scriptural phraseology, in its combina- 
tion of haughty pride and deep contri- 
tion, in its "holy hope and high hu- 
mility," it expressed with austere maj- 
esty the genius of the English race. 
The soul of a great poet entered imme- 
diately into the hearts of men, there to 
abide forever. 

Rudyard Kipling's poetry is as fa- 
miliar to us as the air we breathe. He 
is the spokesman for the Anglo-Saxon 
breed. His gospel of orderly energy is 
} the inspiration of thousands of business 
' offices; his sententious maxims are parts 
of current speech: the victrola has car- 
ried his singing lyrics even farther than 
the banjo penetrates, of which latter 
democratic instrument his wonderful 
poem is the apotheosis. And we have 
the word of a distinguished British 
major-general to prove that Mr. Kip- 



ling has actually wrought a miracle of 
transformation with Tommy Atkins. 
General Sir George Younghusband, in 
a recent book, A Soldier's Memories, 
says, "I had never heard the words or 
expressions that Rudyard Kipling's sol- 
diers used. Many a time did I ask my 
brother officers whether they had ever 
heard them. No, never. But, sure 
enough, a few years after the soldiers 
thought, and talked, and expressed 
themselves exactly as Rudyard Kipling 
had taught them in his stories. Rudyard 
Kipling made the modern soldier. 
Other writers have gone on with the 
good work, and they have between them 
manufactured the cheery, devil-may-care, 
lovable person enshrined in our hearts 
as Thomas Atkins. Before he had 
learned from reading stories about him- 
self that he, as an individual, also pos- 
sessed the above attributes, he was 
mostly ignorant of the fact. My early 
recollections of the British soldier are. of 
a bluff, rather surly person, never the 
least jocose or light-hearted except per- 
haps when he had too much beer." 

This is extraordinary testimony to the 
power of literature — from a first-class 
fighting man. It is as though John 
Sargent should paint an inaccurate but 
idealised portrait, and the original 
should make it accurate by imitation. 
The soldiers were transformed by the 
renewing of their minds. Beholding 
with open face as in a glass a certain 
image, they were changed into the same 
image, by the spirit of the poet. This is 
certainly a greater achievement than cor- 
rect reporting. It is quite possible, too, 
that the officers' attitude toward Tommy 
Atkins had been altered by the Barrack- 
Room Ballads, and this new attitude pro- 
duced results in character. 

At all events the transformation of 
character by discipline, cleanliness, hard 
work, and danger is the ever-present 
moral in Mr. Kipling's verse. He loves 
to take the raw recruit or the boyish, 
self-conscious, awkward subaltern, and 
show how he may become an efficient 
man, happy in the happiness that accom- 
panies success. It is a Philistine goal, 



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Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 135 



but one that has the advantage of being 
attainable. The reach of this particular 
poet seldom exceeds his grasp. And al- 
though thus far in his career — he is only 
fifty-one, and we may hope as well as 
remember — his best poetry belongs to the 
nineteenth century rather than the twen- 
tieth, so universally popular a liomily as 
"If" indicates that he has by no means 
lost the power of preaching in verse. 
With the exception of some sad lapses, his 
latter poems have come nearer the earlier 
level of production than his stories. For 
that matter, from the beginning I have 
tho\4ght that the genius of Rudyard 
Kipling had more authentic expression in 
poetry than in prose. I therefore hope 
that after the war he will become one 
of the leaders in the advance of English 
poetry in the twentieth century, as he 
will remain one of the imperishable 
monuments of Victorian literature. The 
verse published in his latest volume of 
stories, A Diversity of Creatures, 19 17, 
has the stamp of his original mind, and 
Macdonough's Song is impressive. I 
rather regret that this book also con- 
tains his English Song of Hate, 
to answer the imprecatory psalm from 
Germany. And in a poem which does 
not appear in this collection, but which 
was written at the outbreak of hostili- 
ties, Mr. Kipling was, I believe, the 
first to use the name Hun — an appella- 
tion of considerable adhesive power. Do 
roses stick like burrs ? 

His influence on other poets has of 
course been powerful. As Eden Phill- 
potts is to Thomas Hardy, so is Robert 
Service to Rudyard Kipling. Like Bret 
Harte in California, Mr. Service found 
gold in the Klondike. But it is not 
merely in his interpretation of the life 
of a distant country that the new poet 
reminds one of his great prototype ; both 
in matter and in manner he may justly 



be called the Kipling of the North. His 
verse has an extraordinary popularity 
among American college undergraduates, 
the reasons for which are evident. They 
read, discuss him, and quote him with 
joy, and he might well be proud of the 
adoration of so many of our eager, ad- 
venturous, high-hearted youth. Yet, 
while Mr. Service is undoubtedly a real 
poet, his work as a whole seems a clear 
echo, rather than a new song. It is 
good, but it is reminiscent of his reading, 
not merely of Mr. Kipling, but of poetry 
in general. In "The Land God For- 
got," a fine poem, beginning 

The lonely sunsets flare forlorn 
Down valleys dreadly desolate; 

The lordly mountains soar in scorn 
As still as death, as stern as fate, 

the opening line infallibly brings to mind 
Henley's 

Where forlorn sunsets flare and fade. 

The poetry of Mr. Service has the 
merits and the faults of the "red blood" 
school in fiction, illustrated by the late 
Jack London and the lively Rex Beach. 
It is not the highest form of art. It 
insists on being heard, but it smells of 
mortality. You cannot give permanence 
to a book by printing it in italic type. 

It is indeed difficult to express in 
pure artistic form great primitive experi- 
ences, even with long years of intimate 
first-hand knowledge. No one doubts 
Mr. Service's accuracy or sincerity. But 
many men have had abundance of ma- 
terial, rich and new, only to find it un- 
manageable. Bret Harte, Mark Twain, 
Rudyard Kipling succeeded where thou- 
sands have failed. Think of the possi- 
bilities of Australia! And from that 
vast region only one great artist has 
spoken — Percy Grainger. 



{To be continued.) 



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PATRIOTISM : THE TWO VOICES 



BY WILLIAM FORBES COOLEY 



"One of the things hidden from the 
wise and prudent and revealed unto the 
simple minded is patriotism/' said a dis- 
tinguished sociologist, in introducing 
Major Gordon ("Ralph Connor") to 
an American audience. But is it a reve- 
lation — a principle from above? Or is 
it a survival of the clamour of the primi- 
tive human pack? 

The question is not new. The sub- 
stance of it is found in such diflEerent 
writers as Stirncr and Tolstoy; but the 
urgency of it was never so great as to- 
day. Out of the present horror of sensi- 
tive minds over humanity's desolation; 
out of the defeat of our hopes for the 
humanisation of the nations, and our dis- 
may as the aboriginal barbarian thrusts 
himself through the rent domino of 
civilisation, comes a great emotional re- 
enforcement of patriotism's impeachment 
at the bar of reason. Is it not enough 
that so many men should be beasts — 
swine or cattle, wolves or tigers — ^but 
must some devil, or hereditary crotchet 
of mind, enlist the nobler portion of 
mankind in the hateful cause of world 
destruction? If only the beasts fought 
with one another — subjugator with sub- 
jugator, robber with robber — we might 
look on with a certain cynical acquies- 
cence, as often we do at the combats on 
the stock exchange, feeling that a rough 
kind of moral purgation was going on. 
But it is not so, the supreme condem- 
nation of patriotism, the accusing voice 
declares, is that it seduces the good even 
more than the evil. It deceitfully en- 
gages in the melee of man's undoing 
some of the nobler impulses of our na- 
ture — the disposition to serve one's kind, 
self-sacrificing devotion to an ideal, and 
so forth. In patriotic service of "The 
Fatherland" countless Germans — the 
good no less than the bad — ^must march 
through the shrieking, stabbing barrage 



and face the barking death of machine 
guns, while under the like patriotic urge 
the vanishing manhood of France^ the 
idealist and the bully, must meet dismem- 
bering shell and smothering gas. But 
for patriotism, such Satanic orgies would 
be impossible, for most of those now so 
vehemently seeking each other's lives 
have no natural hostility. It is the tra- 
ditionally sanctified cry of country which 
calls them forth to the evil task of mu- 
tual destruction. 

Man in his fatuity has ever had a piti- 
ful habit of enslaving himself to gods of 
his own creation. In our time patriotism 
is the most potent form of this idolatry. 
Our symbols are less naive than those of 
ancient times; a piece of coloured bunt- 
ing suffices. But the worship appears 
to be much the same; for, in the last 
analysis, what did Nebuchadnezzar's 
golden image, three score cubits high, or 
the statue of the reigning Caesar, stand 
for but just the state, die state in its 
might and its glory^ as contrasted with 
other and inferior peoples? Nor is it a 
truer worship in its modern form. As 
of old its actual works belie its specious 
claims and fair appearance. For all its 
pretence of love for the homeland, it is 
quite content in times of peace that that 
land should be a mere tilting ground 
for the adventures of greed — ^an arena 
where the strong exploit the weak, and 
programmes for human service and hon- 
ourable dealing on the part of the state 
are pushed aside as unpractical and sen- 
timental. It is only when the primitive 
instinct of combat is appealed to, and 
the opportunity to destroy something ap- 
pears, that it awakes from its sloth and 
turns to action. 

Such a human factor, the voice in- 
sists, bears evident earmarks of primi- 
tive impulse. It is the tribal spirit of 
self-maintenance surviving long after all 



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justification for it. It is the narrow, 
exclusive interest of the clan, from the 
viewpoint of which the stranger is pre- 
sumptively an enemy — the outlook of 
rude, childish men, who have not yet 
discovered the vast superiority of co- 
operative world life to isolated tribalism. 
It is group morality still entrenched, and 
excluding rational morality. At the bar 
of reason it stands under three-fold con- 
viction: as an agency of moral degenera- 
tion, of provincialism, and of political 
reaction. 

Of moral degeneration, because it 
converts respectable men and women 
into spies and agents of lying intrigue, 
and at the trump of war prompts other- 
wise worthy citizens to bloody and de- 
structive deeds. The savagery of Attila 
is repeated in Belgium, and justified as 
part of the exploits of "our brave army," 
whereas like deeds perpetrated anywhere 
between the Meuse and the Memel 
would be inexpressibly wicked. The pa- 
triotic hero is the figure depicted in the 
sixty-third chapter of Isaiah, trampling 
the tribe's enemies in his fury and stain- 
ing his raiment with their life-blood! 

Nor is the provincialism of patriotism 
less manifest. A century of fourth of 
July orations pitifully exemplify it, ora- 
tions the gaudy rhetoric of which reveals 
the narrow outlook of speakers and 
hearers alike. More through the con- 
ceit of patriotism than from any other 
cause has it come about that the United 
States, which has averaged over one war 
to a generation, has generally gone into 
war unprepared, and has won its ends 
only at a rationally shameful cost in 
blood and treasure. Through the same 
obsession of national superiority full 
many greatly needed improvements in 
politics and industry have been headed 
oflF. What call have we, the modern 
chosen people, to learn from the "effete 
monarchies"? and how absurd to think 
that the antipodes can suggest improve- 
ments to our superiority — the Australian 
system of registry of land titles, for ex- 
ample! Such patriotically induced pro- 
trincialism is to the clear eye of reason 
the logical antecedent of disaster, and a 



major cause of intellectual, and ulti- 
mately of industrial stagnation — a men- 
tal attitude directed toward an ultimate 
condition like that of Spain or Turkey. 

Somewhat differently, but not less 
really, is patriotism an agency of reac- 
tion, a subtle ally of old abuses and class 
oppressions. These to the patriot have 
the false standing of prescription, a cer- 
tain tolerableness just because they are 
institutions of his country. To the pa- 
triotic Briton the inefficiency of the privi- 
leged classes, and the drunkenness so 
common in classes high and low, are not 
the offensive things that they should be ; 
the glamour of "Old England" is over 
them. The subtle sceptre of the "Idol 
of the Den" sways his judgment. And 
if at length the popular demand for re- 
form becomes formidable, then it is a 
favourite device of intrenched oppres- 
sors to raise the bogy of peril to the 
state, and smother the reform movement 
under a blind resurgence of patriotism. 
Witness the almost complete absorption 
of even the German socialists into the 
HohenzoUern world-dominating move- 
ment. 

Is it not time to have done with this 
mischievous sentiment, time to ban it, 
along with envy and hatred and revenge, 
as an enemy of human welfare? Loy- 
alty should not be directed to a part of 
mankind at the cost of the whole. WTiat 
we need is not nationalism, but interna- 
tionalism, not tribalism, however en- 
larged and refined, but world-wide 
brotherhood. It is a barbarian delusion 
that the real interests of any people can 
be permanently advanced at the cost of 
other peoples. The common good is the 
test of right conduct in collective no less 
than in individual behaviour. But pa- 
triotism has no place for this fundamen- 
tal principle. It makes for division, and 
inter-group hostility, not for a world 
order based upon Christ's principle of 
mutual service. It is occupied, and never 
perhaps more busily than to-day,* with 
breaking up the rising world conscious- 
ness, and defeating the needed and 

*In Austria, Russia, and the Balkans, for 
example, and in Ireland and South Africa. 



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Patriotism: The Two Voices 



longed-for "parliament of the world." 
Therefore, away with patriotism, and in 
with brotherhood! 

Can adequate reply to this arraign- 
ment be made, an arraignment that, with 
all its passion, is supported by such a 
body of facts? One thing should be 
manifest: no mere waving of flags, or 
singing of the national anthem ; no quot- 
ing of Scott's "Lives there a man with 
soul so dead," is adequate reply ; for that 
intellectually is begging the question — 
mere blind reassertion of the sentiment 
in question. 

Nor will the answering voice be able, 
perhaps, to enter any wholesale denial 
as regards the results of the kind of pa- 
triotism which has been most common 
in the world. One serious and weighty 
point, however, it may make, and should 
make, at the outset. It is that the elimi- 
nation of patriotism from human nature 
in general is a quite impossible enter- 
prise, a Utopian remedy. The senti- 
ment roots far too deeply in our biologi- 
cal structure — ^in instincts which are in- 
tegral to the surviving human type. On 
the altruistic side it is directly traceable 
to the fighting partiality and self-forget- 
fulness of the protecting male in the 
higher gregarious animals, the instinctive 
impulse, say, of bull or ram to thrust 
himself forcibly between the enemy and 
the threatened herd. Another altruistic 
root — since boys are sons of their 
mothers and trained by them — is the 
tender instinct of the female, leading her 
to cherish and protect the object of her 
love. These are exceedingly primitive 
impulses in human nature, as is shown 
by their presence in the higher animals. 
Nor is patriotism less deeply rooted in 
man's egoism, which, despite a common 
uncritical opinion, is by no means a mere 
polite word for selfishness. A potent 
form of egoism is the impulse to achieve- 
ment, self-enlargement, and display, and 
this, when socialised, is a prime root of 
patrioti^n. When, as often happens, the 
self-realising impulse finds its ends in the 
common good; when it becomes ex- 
panded and elevated, and identifying 
itself with the social whole, makes the 



group's fortunes and aims its own, then 
patriotism in an absorbing form is the 
result, patriotism as an egoistic impulse 
or disposition, a social enlargement and 
glorification of the self. Under its spell 
the private in the ranks, or the common 
man in the procession, feels himself a 
greater being than before, one playing a 
more magnificent part in the world. 
This, says something within him, is 
really living ; now mighty things are pos- 
sible. This stirring experience is in- 
stinctive; its appeal does not rest upon 
education, or the lack of it. It moves 
the man of brawn, and it moves the man 
of brain, as one may see by turning to 
the eleventh canto of Lowell's "Com- 
memoration Ode." Furthermore, this 
sentiment, through its connection with 
the welfare of the group, has, by nat- 
ural selection, been firmly established in 
human heredity. The groups which 
lacked it have succumbed. The groups 
that survived in the rude days of the 
past — that is, the nations of to-day — 
have won out in the struggle for exist- 
ence just because they possessed it. 

Now, is it likely that a sentiment thus 
ruthlessly inbred into the very fibre of 
the earth's present inhabitants, thus 
deeply rooted in primal instincts on both 
sides of our nature, and yielding to its 
possessors both the high spiritual joy of 
self-abasement in behalf of a recognised 
superior (the group), and the intoxicat- 
ing sense of self-enlargement and magni- 
fied achievement — is it likely that such 
a sentiment will yield the field at the 
behest of any merely intellectual con- 
clusion? It is exceedingly unlikely as 
regards the mass of mankind. All men 
feel, and all act on impulse; but, aside 
from their vocational activities, only a 
few men think, in the sense of guiding 
their conduct by reflective processes. 
Even so thoioughgoing a socialist as 
Max Eastman recognises this. Patriot- 
ism, he says, is "something that no pledge 
or resolution, no theory, no gospel, no 
poetry or philosophy of life, no culture 
or education, and not even your own 
financial interest can ever conquer."* 

*The Survey, January i, 1916. 



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Patriotism : The Two Voices 



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This statement may, of course, be 
challenged as too sweeping. It certainly 
is conceivable that in time patriotism 
should be banished from the breasts of 
the educated classes, but, so long as men 
in general continue to be swayed by ele- 
mental impulses, would that be desirable, 
even from the internationalist's point of 
view? We know that many of our fel- 
low-citizens would not appropriate our 
goods, even if they had every opportunity 
to do so with immunity, but does that 
knowledge make us favour the abolition 
of police and courts and bolted doors? 
The international situation appears to be 
much the same. With human nature 
constituted as it is, what would a non- 
patriotic people, or a divicfed and so 
feebly patriotic people, have to expect 
from the world — what but exploitation 
by peoples of ruder culture and more sin- 
gle purpose? Full often has this nat- 
ural outcome been illustrated in the tra- 
gic experience of the race from the days 
when rude Sparta humiliated intellec- 
tual Athens and "macht-politik" Rome 
overran the Greek world. The pro- 
gramme of banishing patriotism from 
the world and replacing it by universal 
brotherhood thus reduces to something 
less, and something worse, than an "iri- 
descent dream" ; in its net upshot it is a 
device for facilitating the exploitation 
of the ethically more advanced peoples 
by the more unscrupulous. 

The voice of criticism offers a differ- 
ent programme for the sentiment of pa- 
triotism, as it does for every integral 
constituent of human nature, religion, 
for example. Patriotism should be 
trained, not extirpated. Like human na- 
ture in general, it is neither good nor 
bad in itself ; it has moral character only 
as it is directed to worthy or unworthy 
ends.* Its need is moralisation — uplift- 

*To the same effect spoke Secretary Lane 
in his Flag Day address in 19 14: "I [the 
flag, conceived as speaking to Americans] 
am whatever you make me, nothing more 
. . . your dream of what a people may be- 
come. . . . Sometimes I am loud, garish, and 
full of that ego that blasts judgment. But 
always I am all that you hope to be, and 
have the courage to try for. ... I am the 



ing, refining, and broadening. It must 
be converted from a selfish group inter- 
est into a rational, or moral, group in- 
terest ; that is, related up in due subordi- 
nation with the sentiment of the brother- 
hood of man. Nor does there appear to 
be any insuperable obstacle. Although 
all too often patriotism has included hos- 
tility to the foreigner as such, it need not 
do so.t National interests only need to 
be construed in high enough terms to 
convert the foreigner into a friendly, 
albeit emulative, neighbour. Only when 
the desires of two peoples are fixed upon 
the same object, and that is of limited 
extent — ^Alsace-Lorraine, for example — 
are they necessarily in conflict. No 
zealous endeavour on the part of France 
and Germany to be foremost in science 
or art or any form of human excellence 
— least of all any form of human service 
— need lead these peoples to feelings or 
acts of hostility. As well argue that col- 
lege athletic teams must necessarily be 
enemies to each other. The problem of 
the redemption of patriotism is simply 
part of the problem of the moralisation 
of society. Once establish the common 
good as the true goal of all, men and na- 
tions alike, and patriotism becomes sim- 
ply the ambition of a people to do a high 
and worthy part in the achievement of 
that good, to furnish for it a unique and 
distinctive contribution, such as no other 
people can duplicate. For the finer type 
of patriots this is already the content of 
the sentiment,t and however far at pres- 
ent the common run of citizens may be 

clutch of an idea ... the pictured sugges- 
tion of that big thing which makes this na- 
tion." 

tSays Bertrand Russell: "The good at 
which it aims is a good for one's own nation 
only, not for all mankind." This is quite 
certainly an error as regards the higher type 
of patriots— can one believe it of Lincoln 
while reading his second inaugural? — and it 
does not appear that it need be true of any 
honest-hearted citizen. 

tCf. Rose Pastor Stokes's words in re- 
signing from the Women's Peace Party: "I 
would serve my country, but I am not a 
patriot ... I seek for this country, as for 
the world, the highest good. ... I would 
fight or serve, if called upon ... as an 



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Patriotism: The Two Voices 



from this ideal, it is none the less the 
true ideal toward which popular educa- 
tion in school and church and press 
should strive. 

It may still be maintained, no doubt, 
that the patriotic ideal involves provin- 
cialism ; but, if so, it is provincialism of 
a worthy kind. It is not the provincial- 
ism which sees the whole merely as 
fringe to the part, as in the case of the 
Greeks and Barbarians, Jews and Gen- 
tiles, the "Middle Kingdom" and the 
"foreign devils." It is rather specialism, 
localisation and definiteness in interest 
and duty, recognition by a people of its 
special field and task and t3^e of service. 
To eflEect this transformation it is only 
needful that the great truth in the inter- 
nationalists' plea should be clearly recog- 
nised and heartily espoused, the truth, 
namely, that the supreme unit is the race 
and not the tribe, mankind and not any 
fraction of it; that, therefore, true de- 
votion to one's country includes a recog- 
nition of that country's duties as well as 
its desires; and that, as President Hib- 
ben has said, a nation "fails to fulfil its 
destiny if it is wholly self-centred and 
self-absorbed." That truth once estab- 
lished and enthroned, it is impossible 
that rational patriotism should conflict 
with rational philanthropy, or universal 
brotherhood. As well maintain that care 
of one's digestive system militates against 
regard for the body as a whole, or that 
an individual investigator's special con- 
cern with electro-dynamics is hurtful to 
the cause of science. Indeed, in a sense 
all scientific inquiry to-day is provincial ; 
it is specialised. Now, in the ethico- 
social field, no less than in the fields of 
physics and physiology, an organic situa- 
tion is involved; that is, the part in its 
normal functioning serves the whole as 
well as Itself, and the whole reacts help- 

iDfinitesimal part of a great instrument, 
in use since the beginning of history, for the 
perfecting of human unity and human free- 
dom." One does not see why Mrs. Stokes 
should reject the word "patriot"^ "Jingo«>" 
certainly have no copyright upon it Indeed, 
David Starr Jordan, going to the opposite 
extreme, declares that "true patriotism is but 
another name for tolerance and humanity." 



fully upon the part, giving it the most 
favourable conditions for successful ac- 
tivity. Only through such organic rela- 
tion of the tribe to the race, the nation 
to the world, with its special attention 
to the local interest and task, can the 
universal good be really secured. The 
vast enterprise of human betterment re- 
quires specific effort in countless ways 
and in definite times and places; it calls 
for the concerted, manifold, and distinc- 
tive services of all the peoples on the 
earth. It is not to be adiieved by mere 
vague desires for improvement, however 
widespread. As well trust to the clouds 
of steam which hang over tropic seas to 
run pur factories. Each nation must 
grapple with the task of progress as that 
task presents itself within its own bor- 
ders, and must do it in the way for 
which it is best fitted. 

Be it so, it may be objected, why have 
any national sentiment about it? Be- 
cause thereby attention to the task and 
interest in it is greatly fostered. We ap- 
preciate the universal only through the 
partial.* Men's minds reach broad out- 
looks only with difficulty. The more 
local and concrete an object, the more 
readily the average mind becomes inter- 
ested in it Indeed, after three years of 
world war not a few of our citizens still 
think we should not concern ourselves 
with a foe who is beyond the sea, and 
not yet desolating our farms and wreck- 
ing our cities. Most men will evidently 
have but a vague perception of hu- 
manity's well-being, and but a feeble 
interest in it, if that well-being is not 
some way localised for them — concretely 
represented in country and community. 

Nor is this the whole truth by any 
means. The factor of emulation must 

*So Prof. Royce, in discussing ''the prob- 
lem of educating the self-estranged spirit of 
our nation to know itself better," says, "we 
need ... a new and wiser provincialism 
... the sort of provincialism which makes 
people want to idealise, to adorn, to ennoble, 
to educate their own province; to hold 
sacred its traditions, to honour its worthy 
dead, to support and to multiply its public 
possessioni." (Philosophy of Loyalty, p. 
245.) 



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Patriotism : The Two Voices 



141 



come in for the full development of in- 
terest and effort. William James 
averred that rivalry does four-fifths of 
the wo Id's work. Let those who wish 
disparage this factor upon ideal grounds. 
It is certainly a fundamental constituent 
of human nature^ as little to be exorcised 
as aversion to pain. The human mind 
gets its appreciations largely through 
contrast. Light and dark, hard and soft, 
work and ease, pleasure and pain, and 
the like, get much, if not all, of their 
meaning through their difiEerences one 
from the other. By the nature of the 
mind^ therefore, the homeland of each 
people will through its distinctiveness 
awaken a sense of possession, and arouse 
interest and call forth service, to a de- 
gree that is impossible in the cases of 
such universals as mankind and the 
world, which have no competitors upon 
their own plane. The effort to make 
that homeland in some sense iiber 
alles will have an attractiveness which 
can attach to no purely universal, 
and therefore non-emulative, endeav- 
our. 

It is manifest, then, that however it 
may be with certain intellectuals, men 
in general will make their distinctions of 
interest between parts of mankind, and 
will in some form cherish their partiali- 
ties. Indeed, those who in these days are 
die loudest prophets of internationalism 
and the severest critics of patriotism, 
themselves exemplify the statement; for 
they stand as distinctly for a class 
group — ^the wage earners — as the pa- 
triot stands for a local group. With not 
a few of them animosity to the hour- 
geoisie and to "capital" outruns all ordi- 
nary international hostility of French- 
men and Germans. At this writing 
their latest demand in Russia is a "dic- 
tatorship of the proletariat" — universal 
brotherhood with a vengeance! If then, 
partialities are bound to exist either 
along geographical or social lines, would 
it pay society to banish nationalism, if 
that were possible, in order that class in- 
terests and class antagonisms might do 
their perfect work? Will suspicions and 
animosities and conflicts be less hurtful 



when directed against our neighbours 
than when against strangers in distant 
lands? The latter we can reach and 
hurt only with difficulty^ but the former 
lie ever-exposed to abuse and exploita- 
tion, to bomb and torch. If divisions 
must needs be, surely it is to be counted 
to patriotism for righteousness that it 
divides men upon lines perpendicular to 
the social strata, and in so doing, in the 
measure of its strength, moderates the 
lateral industrial antagonisms, and binds 
the classes together in heart and pur- 
pose.* There is no such thing as a 
sound society, one either safe or happy^ 
made up of mere contiguous classes, 
without common interests and ends, du- 
ties and tasks. The fabric of a real so- 
ciety is always composed of Xyfo sets of 
dynamic relations — ^the warp of class 
needs, desires, and aims and the woof of 
the organic (that is, national) interests, 
duties^ and ideals. There are social ob- 
servers who predict a bloody industrial 
revolution in the near future. If such 
a catastrophe ever does occur, the salva- 
tion of society will lie with those inteHi- 
gent men — of all classes — ^who have de- 
veloped a high and rational patriotism, 
a patriotism which is moral because it 
recognises and provides for the interests 
of all classes and of fellow peoples, and 
which is politically sound because it seeks 
to create an organic national and world 
situation — an order of things among 
men in which the common good will be 
sought and achieved through the co-oper- 
ation and mutual service of whole and 
part, the class giving loyal devotion to 
the nation, and the nation securing to 
each class just and helpful conditions of 
life and progress ; and, in the larger field 
of the world, the nation finding its true 
life in its needed and characteristic con- 
tribution to universal human good^ 
while the Parliament of Man (or 
League of Peace) guards and furthers 
the just claims of each people for wel- 
fare and development. The fundamental 
idea of such patriotism is, of course, far 

*For anarchists and other social revolu- 
tionists this is its condemnation. Hinc ilia 
lacrima. 



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Song for the New Crusade 



from new," for it is essentially Jesus' 
idea of mutual service as the necessary 
basis of a successful society, whether that 



society be small or great, but we humans, 
with our predatory social heritage, have 
been dullards in learning it. 



SONG FOR THE NEW CRUSADE 

BY GLENN WARD DRESBACH 

The love of Freedom and Mankind 

Too long our Arms delayed. 
Now for that love, no longer blind. 

We send the New Crusade! 
Against the Foe our might is hurled 
To save our Land^ to save the World, 
To bless a cleansed posterity 
With all the New Age hopes to be! 

The love of Earth and Brotherhood 

Shall lead to Victory. 
Torn lands, the battered hill and wood 

The healing spring shall see. 
And all who died shall live indeed, 
And all who toiled in Earth's great need, 
Near noble dead and near the Lord, 
Shall look on Earth and have reward. 

And War that kills the millions brave 

And sends tears like a flood 
Shall fall upon his sword and rave 

And die in his own blood. 
And Despots shall be tombed with him, 
Leaving their all on pages dim 
With people's tears. . . . Democracy 
Shall spread like Sun on land and sea! 



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BY FRANCES EVELYN WARWICK 

(Countess of Warwick) 



The words I have written at the head 
of this paper express the conviction that 
has been forcing itself upon me for a 
long time past and, in the light of latter 
day developments, appears to stand be- 
yond the reach of doubt. We who must 
go are the aristocracy of England in our 
position of hereditary landowners. Let 
the newly made peers of the last decade, 
who won their spurs in the factory or 
the political clubs, the lobby of the 
House of Commons, the drawing-rooms, 
take heart of grace. They are not aristo- 
crats any more than the actor is when 
for three hours out of the twenty-four 
he becomes a duke at the bidding of a 
playwright. Plutocrats, bureaucrats, 
peers, call them what you will, the great 
majority have no single instinct in com- 
mon with the class into whose diminish- 
ing ranks they have endeavoured to force 
their way at the point of the cheque 
book. 

As I write the country rings with 
suggestions for the betterment of the 
conditions under which land is culti- 
vated, but as I see them the suggestions 
are in no instance drastic enough. The 
only cure for present evils seems to me 
to be state ownership, the abolition of 
all private property in the earth that 
was given to all of us in common. There 
are two classes of large landowners, the 
aristocracy and the plutocracy. Let us 
see how they are handling what they 
regard as their property^ taking the 
aristocracy first. As a class they have 
been good landlords within limits, but 
the limits are very marked because they 
have always been a narrow-minded body. 
The average chatelaine who plays the 
part of Lady Bountiful is to me an 
abomination because her philanthropy is 
so closely associated with religion, per- 
sonal pride, and party politics. Let me 



give a few instances. I have known es- 
tates where the tenants are expected to 
belong to the Church of England and 
non-Conformity is barred or persecuted. 
It is associated with radicalism and 
therefore suspect. Some farmers and 
very many labourers and small village 
tradesmen have been ruined or exiled 
from the place of their birth because 
their opinions are contrary to those of 
the landlord. A suspicion of voting for 
the wrong candidate, i.e., for the man 
who is neither conservative nor union- 
ist, is fatal and leads at least to boycott. 
Men and women on such estates must 
rule their lives to order, think as they 
are told to think, do as they are told, 
"thank the Lord for daily rations, and 
bless the squire and his relations." If 
our aristocracy possessed the sweetness, 
the light and the overwhelming wisdom 
necessary to justify their role as supreme 
dictators all would be well, but I can- 
not reckon in their ranks more than half 
a dozen whose claims would bear even 
a momentary consideration. 

My memory travels back to the ex- 
traordinary outburst of indignation 
among the county magnates that fol- 
lowed Mr. Jesse CoUing's suggestion 
that every man should possess three 
acres and a cow. The wrath of the land- 
owners was only equalled by their 
amazement. An earthquake would have 
shocked them less. 

How little the aristocracy understand 
the democracy that was first revealed to 
me at Chatsworth many years ago when 
the late Duke of Devonshire was alive 
and Joseph Chamberlain, one of the great 
men of our times, had parted with Mr. 
Gladstone on the Home Rule question. 
There was a big house party at the 
Duke's Derbyshire home to meet Roy- 
alty, and to the intense surprise and 



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We Must Go 



alarm of all the assembled guests save 
Royalty, which had of course been con- 
sulted, the Duke said he had invited Mr. 
Joseph Chamberlain and that he would 
arrive in the evening. The amazement 
among the ladies was unbounded. 
"What can he be like?" said one who 
shall be nameless, to me, "I hear such 
dreadful things about him^ he has made 
shocking speeches." I endeavoured to 
console her. "I don't suppose he knows 
how to eat," remarked another anxiously. 
"I'm told these people never learn the 
difference between a knife and a fork. 
It will be terribly embarrassing for all 
of us and for him too. I think it's a 
terrible mistake to ask him down." I 
remember how the guests assembled as 
though to see a strange animal released 
from a menagerie and the curious feel- 
ings that ran through them as some said 
afterward, when the great statesman, 
cold, imperturbable, complete master of 
himself and of his hereditary enemies, 
took his place among the Duke's guests 
and struck the empty babblers dumb. 
He had split the barque of Liberalism 
from stem to stem, he had given a new 
life to moribund Conservatism, but the 
chief concern of some of those he met 
for the first time was to see if he ate 
his peas with a knife and mistook the 
functions of spoon and fork. Then at 
least they would have had the solid satis- 
faction of knowing he was damned past 
redemption. But, alas! he did none of 
these things. 

It may be urged that this is ancient 
history. I say that the strange attitude 
of mind that prompted the view of Jo- 
seph Chamberlain is typical. Only two 
or three years ago I learned that when a 
certain peer visits one of his shooting 
estates the village inn is not allowed to 
receive visitors nor are any of the 
tenants of the estate permitted to harbour 
as much as a relation. Some plebeian 
might come "betwixt the wind and his 
nobility." Can these things endure in 
the twentieth century? Can the people 
capable of creating such conditions be 
permitted to enjoy and hand down to 
their heirs, the freehold of English 



earth ? * Let common sense answer the 
question. 

I turn to the plutocrats, the men who 
have bought land and titles in the open 
market, and believe me the one is nearly 
as readily purchased as the other. They 
have not the old feudal tradition of the 
aristocracy. All their lives they have 
been accustomed to make business ven- 
tures pay, and while they value the pres- 
tige that a great estate confers, they 
demand five or six per cent, on their 
outlay and employ an agent who will see 
that they get it. My enquiries, extend- 
ing over a term of years, confirm the 
common evidence that the landlord of 
this class is a bad landlord. Moreover, 
he is more greedy about his game rights 
than any other species of the genus land- 
lord, and in many instances the Ground 
Game Act under which the farmer may 
keep down hares and rabbits becomes a 
dead letter. The "new" landlord has 
ever been the terror of the hunt, and 
whatever the faults of the hunt it has 
done much for horse-breeder and farmer 
in the past, sufficient at least to deserve 
a reasonable epitaph. The "new" land- 
lord overstocks his coverts, and if the 
birds eat the farmer's grain he thinks it 
is rather smart of them. He throws out 
the old hands whom the feudalist for 
all his faults would have kept in em- 
plo}rment even though they could not 
quite earn their wages, noblesse oblige. 
In short, he treats the land on strictly 
business lines, not for the benefit of agri- 
culture or the state but for the sake of a 
good investment. 

I have felt for many years past that 
for the betterment of social conditions in 
England a supreme sacrifice is required ; 
war has deepened and strengthened the 
conviction. It seems to me no more than 
an act of justice that the remains of the 
valiant men who offered their lives for 
Britain should have the freedom of 
Britain for their reward. There is no 
one member of my own class who would 
claim to have done more for his coun- 
try than any of the rank and file, and 
it can be no justice that calk men to 
fight for the land and leaves it in the 



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hands of a fraction of those who fought. 
To me it is impossible that in the future 
His Grace or My Lord should own 
square miles of the Mother Earth for 
which Tom died and Dick was sore 
wounded and Harry fought unscathed. 
Use and wont are hardened sinners, but 
surely even they must turn from such a 
prospect. The country has great needs, 
and if it is to remain solvent the united 
work of one and all following the latest 
developments with the most complete 
equipment will be inevitable. The old 
feudal landlord will be an anachronism, 
the new money-spun landlord an 
abomination, only the state can own the 
land in trust for those who can make it 
productive. Little more than half a 
century has passed since in Japan the 
Samurai surrendered their privileges into 
the hands of the Mikado^ and with their 
sacrifice the new Japan was born. If 
we are to look for a like spirit in this 
country surely it must be among those 
to whom good fortune and the accident 
of birth have given the best chance of 
understanding the hideous inequality 
from which they derive their benefits. 
Suppose that our aristocracy as a class 
were to emulate the Samurai, that they 
were to place at the disposal of the state 
the Mother Earth that belongs to the 
state by right. They might reasonably 
accept a moderate recompense — something 
that would provide for them and their 
children on the scale of modest living 
that will become the rule when we begin 
to meet the price of war. Our little world 
is made up of people inferior in the 
capacity of doing to the butler who con- 
trols the pantry, the keeper who looks 
after the covers, the groom who cleans 
the stables. We have been brought up 
as parasites and should not be too 
heavily penalised for a fault that is not 
our own. But the position so long held 
was anomalous enough before the war, 
after the war it will be an impossibility 
if national progress is to be unfet- 
tered. 

How far fairer it would be for us to 
recognise and accept the truth and go as 
the Moors went from Spain, where they. 



too, had become an anachronism, though 
the beauty that made their sojourn re- 
markable lingers to this day. If we 
would make the supreme sacrifice of our 
tradition we could trust the common 
sense of our countrymen to see that no 
plutocrats devoid of all tradition stepped 
into the place we had vacated. We could 
make our bargain with the state that it 
should be the supreme landlord spend- 
ing the rent to make the lovely country- 
side at least as valuable to national life 
as the ugly town. We who came into 
the high places of England with the 
false halo of conquest would retire from 
them in the real halo of renunciation, and 
our act of supreme sacrifice would be a 
better memorial than the best of us could 
have hoped to gain. 

The old and middle aged among us 
might have no further part to play, but 
the young, or many of them well bred, 
well reared, well trained, would make 
their mark and feel the joy of living in 
open competition with all and not as a 
pampered and privileged parasitic class. 
Many have revolted against the condi- 
tions, for as the years pass and knowl- 
edge grows, it becomes increasingly dif- 
ficult to reconcile fortune with justice. 
I believe that a landless aristocracy could 
and would serve the country in many 
ways that are at present impossible or 
at best difficult. After all, there is 
nothing startlingly novel in a plan that 
was adopted successfully by the Japanese 
more than half a century ago, and as 
for the question of its novel and revolu- 
tionary character I am convinced that we 
are approaching an era of still greater 
change. The fashion in which the state 
has turned to plans and programmes per- 
sistently advocated and still more per- 
sistently decried down to the time war 
broke out has a significance it would be 
well to bear in mind. 

State ownership alone will serve to 
yield the best results and to repopulate 
the countryside. Let every man occupy 
just as much land as he can farm and 
no more, and if he needs others to help 
him, let each and all share the fruits of 
their labours. Let him be at liberty to 



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At Mass for the Soul of Sister Helena 



increase his holding as more care to join 
him and as his family grows, if he has 
boys who will work on the land and 
girls for the poultry yard, orchard and 
dairy. Let the English farmer and 
those who work with him and share the 
results of the work practise the relation- 
ships that exist in Scotland, where 
farmer and farm labourer were educated 
side by side in the village school and the 
actual farming is the best in the empire. 
I said "educated" — ^they do not give 
children an education in the English vil- 
lage school. Those who know Scotland 
will understand what I mean. From 
end to end of England let the state own 
the soil, and in return for the fair rent 
it yields, give proper education, good 
housing, lights water, drainage and the 
rest. Let it have farming taught on 
scientific lines and end the haphazard 



methods from which the greater part of 
England is suffering and see that in 
every village there are sufficient facili- 
ties for reasonable recreation to remove 
the reproach of dulness from the coun- 
tryside. Above all, let the children be 
taught that the fuller cultivation of the 
land is one of the highest and best of 
human labours. 

The great landowners have had their 
chance for centuries. Their failures out- 
number their successes until these last 
are felt to be quite inconsiderable. In 
the light of our latter day crisis it can 
be seen beyond all possibility of doubt 
that there is no salvation in them. It is 
time that they should go, and only the 
state can replace them if England is to 
respond to the needs of the immediate 
future. I have written with full knowl- 
edge of the facts. 



AT MASS FOR THE SOUL OF SISTER HELENA 

BY LUCIA NORWOOD WATSON 

You were very tired, little Sister. 

Who knows what comes to you? 

I cannot pray for you 

To wake to shuddering ecstasy. 

To the rapier lights 

Of the Church's Heaven 

And the Gloria in Excehis, 

I know you are too tired. 



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A DEMOCRATIC ARISTOCRACY 



BY CHARLES FERGUSON 



"The trouble with your American de- 
mocracy," said Thomas Carlyle, "is that 
there is nobody in the United States 
whose business it is to stand up steadily 
for the public." 

Through all the tortuous chapters of 
Sartor Resartus, The French Revolu- 
tion and the other scornful, rousing^ 
will-stirring books of the Chelsea sage, 
there runs, as everybody knows, a sin- 
gle strain or leit motif, Carlyle shouts 
to the world in a clangorous symphony 
of splendid words: "Masses of men can- 
not succeed — cannot do anything worth 
doing— cannot even live for long — ^un- 
less some of the men in the mass are 
public men — ^public to the core — seeking 
their own fortune, power, life, only in 
and through the success of the public." 

That is Carlyle's idea of an authentic 
aristocracy. He did not invent the idea. 
He discovered it. It is implicit in uni- 
versal history and in all great litera- 
ture. It is the truth that explains the 
existence of a beau monde, an elite of 
force and fashion in all ages and in all 
lands. Everywhere and from the begin- 
nings of historic peoples there seems to 
have been some kind of special order of 
nobles or gentry whose distinction, 
sifted to the bottom, was or was sup- 
posed to be, its aloofness from small and 
private preoccupations, its social repre- 
sentativeness and public responsibility. 
Even after the sense of public mission 
has gone clean out of a dominant class — 
leaving it narrow, acrid and illiberal — it 
still keeps the bare letter of the im- 
memorial tradition. It reports its insig- 
nificant doings under the head, Society — 
in token of the fact that it occupies the 
hollow place where the social spine 
should be. 

Now we have inherited from the age 
of petty handicrafts a theory that there 
is no need of public-mindedness in the 



working world — that there is need only 
of compunctions or commercial honesty. 
This theory lies imbedded in the minds 
of many business men and politicians 
and seems to form the basis of their 
thinking or their thoughtlessness on so- 
cial economics. It is, I submit, a super- 
stition. It will not bear a moment's 
observation. 

The confusion that has come upon 
the world could not have befallen, I 
thinks if there had been any fair repre- 
sentation of the aristocratic attitude to- 
ward life in the centres of great business 
in Europe and America. What was 
needed were public-minded men — men 
who instinctively used their own lives 
and fortunes to underwrite the life and 
fortune of the public — ^in the great credit 
centres and news centres. And it ap- 
pears that at this moment there is no 
possible escape from the confusion — ^that 
we shall go on and on to an ever deep- 
ening misery and bewilderment — ^unless 
the organisation of industry and com- 
merce can develop an aristocracy strong 
enough to dispossess the private-minded 
persons who now hold the governing 
centres of business. 

Have we not grievously misunder- 
stood the meaning of democracy? This 
attempt to compose a great society by a 
nice balancing and counter-checking of 
millions of small and suspicious egotisms 
— has it not always been flatly unprac- 
tical ? As a matter of social science and 
sound philosophy the practical problem 
of democracy seems to be this: to find a 
self-rectifying method for the establish- 
ment of an elite — a free and self-gov- 
erning leadership. The trouble with the 
old aristocracies was that the method of 
their establishment was such that in the 
course of nature they tended constantly 
toward private-mindedness or privilege. 

Probably no aristocracy was ever born 



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A Democratic Aristocracy 



base. For aristocracies arc begotten out 
of social disorder and travail, and in 
their beginnings their very existence 
proves that they are worthy, that they 
stand for so much of public order as is 
intelligible to the times. But the history 
of the world is a reiterated tale of the 
degeneration of aristocracies. They 
gradually cease to be aristocratic. They 
lose energy, intellect and taste — as their 
order ceases to be concentric with the 
public order. It is not a question of 
sacrificial devotion. It is a question of 
being first-rate — not second-rate — in 
sense and sensibility. First-rateness is, 
I suppose, always aristocratic and public- 
minded ; while second-rateness is private- 
minded every day and public-minded 
only in stress of war or on holiday oc- 
casions — ^that is, mixed-minded or mon- 
grel-minded. 

Revolutions seem in general to be due 
to the persistence of legal power in pow- 
erless hands. New autocracies arise be- 
cause the old have grown weak and 
stupid. The new succeed because they 
are relatively intelligent and magnani- 
mous. We cannot escape from confusion 
so long as we cherish the Miltonian 
myth that the devil is fearfully intelli- 
gent — ^and that first-rate intelligence 
must be bound down by the law-wythes 
of the Lilliputians. On the other hand 
we are likely to discover a plain way 
into a new and spacious age as soon as 
we are able to see that people absorbed 
in their private fortunes can never by 
any possibility be more than smart, can 
never achieve intellectual power — that 



great intelligence is in its very nature 
generous. We shall see also that great 
intelligence is necessary for the success- 
ful-co-ordination and control of the 
massive and delicate machineries of 
modem civilisation, and that to pro- 
duce men who are able to do this is 
to produce men that can be trusted to 
do it. 

Thus we are in sight of a solution of 
the problem of self-rectifying aristocracy. 
The method of establishment that was 
needed in order to keep a predominant 
order from becoming a faineant privi- 
leged class, is furnished by the develop- 
ment of a high tensioned productive and 
commercial system that cannot be run 
by knaves or fools. The stupendous ca- 
tastrophe that focuses in Europe and 
spreads through the whole earth, demon- 
strates the need of a social Samurai or 
new order of chivalry to replace the traf- 
fickers and money-changers, the profi- 
teers and small promoters who have mis- 
managed the great central exchanges, 
the centres of information and of credit 
in our complex modem life. An aris- 
tocracy based upon scholastic learning, 
as that of China, or upon land tenures 
as were the aristocracies of mediaeval 
Europe, can decay and yet hold on. 
But the masters of the fine human arts 
and the great engines — ^who shall bring 
order out of this present wreck — will be 
held to valour by the increasing deli- 
cacy and intensity of their task. They 
will win because they will serve. And 
they cannot outstay any intermission in 
the service. 



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SPEAKING OF RUSSIA 



BY ABRAHAM YARMOLINSKY 



This article was written before the defection of Kornilov and it goes to press 
just as news of the counter-revolution against the Provisional Government is reaching 
this country. The author s forecasting of developments is, therefore, truly remark- 
able and his judgment of conditions is shown by events to be thoroughly sane. More- 
over, this article contains perhaps the first accurate statement of Kerensky's position 
in Russia that has appeared. In this country the hope has been father to the belief 
that Kerensky was the "strong man" to curb Russia's license and to lead her to a 
glorious destiny, Mr, Yarmolinsky outlines Kerensky's true strength and his power 
and opportunity, — Editor's Note. 



I THE EBBING TIDE 

The Russian proletariat, partly owing to 
the assistance of the intelligentsia, has 
outstripped all the other social groups in 
the intensity of its class consciousness 
and revolutionary maturity. Thb pe- 
culiarity of Russia's development ac- 
counts for the dominating role which 
Labour and its ideology of political and 
social democracy have played in the shap- 
ing of the present revolution. It is now 
well established that, although represen- 
tatives of the Duma opposition assumed 
the leadership of the revolution, the be- 
haviour of the Liberals during the de- 
cisive moments of the struggle was 
rather a sad one. The real maker of the 
revolution was the Council of the 
Workmen's and Soldiers* Deputies, 
which sprang spontaneously from the 
popular movement and which embodies 
the ideals of Russia's socialistic democ- 
racy. For the first time the power of 
this political body was amply displayed 
in the clash which early in May oc- 
curred between the Council and the 
bourgeois cabinet in connection with the 
government's war policy. The story is 
in everybody's memory. The opposition 
triumphed, several ministers, members 
of the moderate Constitutional-Demo- 
cratic Party, resigned, and the Council, 
in defiance of Socialistic traditions, as- 
sumed a considerable portion of the bur- 



den of power. Ever since then Russia 
has been ruled by His Majesty the 
Workman. Before the eyes of the 
startled world the Russian bear seemed 
to leap from the regime which has been 
wittily described as "despotism tempered 
by assassination," straight into the mil- 
lennium of socialism. 

At present, at the close of the sixth 
month of freedom, the semi-socialistic 
government is still at the helm, but the 
observer cannot help feeling that the 
mighty tide of political and social radi- 
calism^ which has submerged Russia and 
whose spray has reached the four corners 
of the earth, is beginning to ebb. The 
recent Extraordinary National Confer- 
ence has clearly shown that the conserva- 
tive forces are rapidly rallying and gath- 
ering impetus. The very fact that the 
conference was held in Moscow is sym- 
bolic of Russia's changing mind. Mos- 
cow, the depository of Russia's past, is 
the emblem of the conservative tenden- 
cies of Russian life, while Petrograd, the 
magnificent whim of a czar who was a 
great ruler and a still greater revolution- 
ist, symbolises its boundless daring and 
mighty urge. Moscow, the slow, the 
sedate^ is the country's generous heart; 
Petrograd, the City Phantasmal, in 
whose mists reality dissolves into phan- 
toms and phantoms appear real, is Rus- 
sia's ever active brain, now delirious and 
hallucinatory. The shifting of the cen- 



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tre of political life from the seething 
cauldron of the northern capital to the 
quiet of Moscow is a sign of the times. 
A sobering is noticeable among the 
Radicals themselves. The manifold re- 
sponsibilities of power have turned vis- 
ionaries into men of action and intran- 
sigent doctrinaires into opportunists. It 
has brought together, for instance, men 
like the former "terrorist'* Savinkov and 
General Kornilov. But, of course, the 
main powers behind the conservative op- 
position are the industrialists and land- 
owners, whose economic interests are 
threatened by the socialistic tendencies 
of the revolution. Conservatism feeds 
also on the elemental sentiments of pa- 
triotism which has been generated by 
the military reverses, on one hand, and 
the centrifugal forces set free by the 
revolution, on the other. 

II AT THE CROSS-ROADS 

The Provisional Government would 
have us believe that its rule has been 
strengthened by the Moscow Confer- 
ence. It has announced semi-officially 
that all the various political groups 
represented at the extraordinary assem- 
bly were united in their loyalty to the 
present government, and that there were 
no dissensions concerning the following 
three points: 

1. The vigourous defence of the country. 

2. A strong government. 

3. An indivisible Russia. 

Unfortunately, the actual situation 
does not bear out this optimistic view. 
It would be futile to deny that to-day 
Russia is a house divided against itself 
and that this division grows sharper 
with every hour. Under the influence of 
the military debacle in the North, the 
conservative forces are rapidly growing 
stronger and more conscious of them- 
selves. A conflict between them and the 
revolutionary government seems inevi- 
table. New Russia is at the cross-roads 
of her destiny. 

It is important clearly to see the 
things for which the two opposing ele- 



ments stand. The present government 
represents the resultant of the radical 
forces which have hitherto shaped the 
revolution. It is supported by the Coun- 
cil of Workmen's, Soldiers*, and Peas- 
ants' Deputies and by the radical intel- 
lectuals. This central current of the 
revolution stands for the prosecution of 
the war, but at the same time it works 
for the liberalisation of the allied war 
aims, in order that a negotiated peace 
might be obtained. The revolutionary 
government cherishes no illusion as to 
the possibility of immediately rebuilding 
Russia on the pattern of the Marxian 
doctrine, but it stands for thoroughgoing 
social reforms, such as nationalisation 
of the land. It has abandoned the pol- 
icy of governmental non-resistance, but 
it avoids the use of force. It has curbed 
the Finnish separatists, but it has granted 
autonomy to Ukraine. The present gov- 
ernment stands for an indivisible Russia, 
for order and for discipline in the army, 
but above all it stands on guard over 
the reivolution and its democratic acquisi- 
tions, and as the guardian of the newly 
won freedom it loathes the idea of mili- 
tary dictatorship. 

The acknowledged leader of this cur- 
rent is Premier Kerensky, the hero of 
the revolution. The leader of the op- 
position is General Kornilov, a soldier 
every inch of him. He represents pa- 
triotic and nationalistic Russia, and he 
is supported by the conservative elements 
of the population and by a portion of 
the army. Komilov's party dreams of a 
military dictatorship and a war cabinet 
pledged to an unqualified prosecution of 
the war. Kornilov is not by any means 
an enemy of the revolution, but he would 
not hesitate to sacrifice the acquisitions 
of the revolution if the interest of a suc- 
cessful defence of the country demanded 
that sacrifice. His rule would mean the 
abandonment of revolutionary innova- 
tions in the field of economical and so- 
cial policy and a return to the old, well- 
tried methods of statecraft. It would 
also, probably result in the partial resur- 
rection of the traditional Russian im- 
perialism and official nationalism. And 



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who knows whether Kornilov's triumph 
would not finally lead to something in 
the nature of a monarchist ic restora- 
tion? 

The Provisional Government is en- 
deavouring to stem the tide of conserva- 
tism. Kerensky is still strong and he 
controls the situation. Furthermore, the 
grave military situation which Russia 
faces at present will probably compel the 
factions to sacrifice their differences for 
the sake of saving the country from the 
foreign foe. Nevertheless, an open 
clash between Kerensky's party and the 
conservative opposition can hardly be 
avoided. In the near future the country 
may have to choose between Kerensky 
and Komilov. No one knows which side 
will triumph. The friends of Russia 
ardently hope that the conflict, "a fight 
between conquerors," will assume the 
mild form of a cabinet crisis, and that 
the young republic will be spared the 
trials of a civil war. 

Ill KING HUNGER 

In diagnosing the present political sit- 
uation in Russia one important fact has 
often been overlooked, namely that King 
Hunger, who, in the memorable days of 
March last, fought against Czar Nich- 
olas, is at present aligned with the ene- 
mies of the revolutionary democracy and 
its lawful executive organ, the Provi- 
sional Government. The stomach has a 
logic of its own. The people who rele- 
gated the old Russian regime to the 
archives of history fought for bread as 
well as for freedom. The revolution 
has given them the freedom for which 
their souls yearned but failed to supply 
them with bread. It is an open secret 
that the new government has so far been 
unable to cope successfully with the food 
and transportation problems. The sit- 
uation is avowedly desperate, famine is 
threatening both the rear and the front, 
and the bankruptcy of the country's in- 
dustrial life seems imminent. The fault 
hardly lies with the revolutionary gov- 
ernment, but the Man in the Street is 
not in a position to judge impartially. 



Russia's molten body and soul are being 
cast into a new mould, and the process 
is painful. Small wonder then, that the 
Man in the Street groans and grumbles. 
He does it all the more openly and 
boldly that he has been led to believe in 
the sacrosanctitude and sovereignty of 
the collective will of himself and of 
others like him. This popular discon- 
tent has been on the increase ever since 
the first cabinet crisis, caused by Mil3ru- 
kov's note to the allied powers, put an 
end to the honeymoon of Russian free- 
dom. 

This brewing discontent with the new 
government is to-day one of the chief 
hopes of counter-revolution in Russia. 
It is a fertile field for royalism, anti- 
Semitism, and other forms of reactionary 
propaganda, and it partly accounts for 
the success which the opponents of the 
Provisional Government on the extreme 
Left have obtained among the lower 
classes and the soldiers. The monarch- 
istic reaction is raising its head. Accord- 
ing to newspaper advices, a large royalist 
conspiracy was discovered during the 
recent National conference in Moscow. 
At present, the Byzantine nightmare of 
czarism is, it seems, a lifeless corpse, iam 
foetet. Still royalism as a political fac- 
tor cannot be completely disregarded. 
The course of revolutions is as tortuous 
and uncertain as the way of an eagle in 
the air. This is especially true of up- 
heavals which bring into play forces as 
mighty and confused as those stirring in 
the Russian Colossus. 

It would also be rash to minimise the 
importance of the counter-revolution on 
the Left. It is represented by the social- 
istic faction referred to as Bolsheviki, or 
Maximalists, or Leninites. The Left 
opposition is almost as old as the revo- 
lution itself. It is a thorn in the flesh 
of new Russia and a source of constant 
tribulation to the government. The 
Bolsheviki are the fanatics of the revo- 
lution. Collaboration with the "bour- 
geoisie" is, in their opinion, a deadly sin. 
They have no patience with the Pro- 
visional Government, which they con- 
sider too moderate and they call on the 



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workmen to overthrow it and declare 
instead the political dictatorship of the 
proletariat. They also preach the imme- 
diate socialisation of the land and the 
control of the proletariat over the pro- 
duction and distribution of commodities. 
Of the war they would dispose by having 
all the warring peoples make each a revo- 
lution and set up revolutionary govern- 
ments, which would, of course, conclude 
peace in no time. Under the present 
conditions of unrest and confusion a fac- 
tion of this sort, demagogic in its 
methods and anarchistic in its tenden- 
cies, may prove a formidable force. 

IV WAR AND PEACE 

One of the popular fallacies about the 
Russian revolution is that the over- 
throw of czarism was merely a radical 
measure taken by the people against a 
pro-German government, for the pur- 
pose of a more vigourous prosecution of 
the war on the side of its allies. In 
reality, the March events were not only 
a revolt against autocracy, but also a 
protest against this war. The revolu- 
tion brought a message of peace and 
brotherhood to a world writhing in the 
agonies of a fratricide war. In an his- 
torical utterance, which reminded man- 
kind of the cry of the great French 
Revolution, the new democracy appealed, 
over the heads of diplomats and rulers, 
to the belligerent nations, to stop this 
war, thus crystallising the idea of peace 
as a pact between free peoples. Ever 
since then universal peace has been one 
of the main concerns of the best minds of 
Russia. Yet, in spite of all their efforts, 
the Russian radicals have found no prac- 
tical way of extricating the world from 
this war. The celebrated Russian 
formula of "a peace without annexations 
and without indemnities, on the basis of 
national self-determination," is, after all, 
little more than a magnificent gesture 
of repentance and emphatic repudiation 
of the traditional Russian imperialism. 

In the allied countries these pacifistic 
tendencies of the Russian revolution 
were interpreted as an indication that the 



leaders of the young democracy urged 
the nation to conclude a separate peace 
with the central powers. The course 
of the revolution has proved, beyond the 
possibility of a doubt, that this interpre- 
tation was false. It is true that the peo- 
ple at large are longing for peace and 
that, in principle, Russian democracy re- 
jects the continuation of the war as a 
way of settling the issues of interna- 
tional adjustment raised by the struggle. 
It is also true that the Russian socialists 
have pinned their faith on the Pentecost 
of Stockholm. Nevertheless, to-day 
there is not a single political group in 
Russia which preaches the gospel of a 
separate peace. The separate peace 
party has been wiped out by the revolu- 
tion. The present German offensive in 
the North is in itself an indication that 
the Central Powers have lost all hope of 
coaxing Russia into a separate peace. 
Such a peace is too undemocratic and 
anti-national to find any following in 
Russia. The people have no illusion as 
to the sinister consequences which such 
a compact would have for the future of 
Russia and for the world. Even the 
propaganda against Russian allies and 
their war policy which is conducted by 
the Bolsheviki, aims not at a separate 
peace with Germany, but rather at the 
fantastic policy of a separate war with 
her. They would have Russia quit the 
imperialistic conspiracy of Anglo-French 
capitalists, which in their opinion this 
war is, and fight the Teutonic autocra- 
cies single handedly. The overwhelm- 
ing majority of the leaders of the Rus- 
sian people are convinced that, under the 
present conditions, only a consorted 
military effort of all the allied nations 
can bring peace to humanity. Kerensky 
leading an attack against the enemy is 
the symbol of the attitude of the revolu- 
tion toward this war. In this point 
both Kerensky's party and its opponents 
are in perfect agreement. What abates 
the war enthusiasm of the Russian de- 
mocracy is, to speak with Mr. Teresh- 
chenko, the Ministry of War, "the fear 
lest, bound by its old treaties it should 
be forced to work for annexationist aims 



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which are alien to it." If it is true that 
the highest purpose of the struggle 
waged by the Entente Allies is universal 
peace based on a League of Nations, free 
Russia has surely been eminently loyal 
to that purpose. 

V THE ARMY 

The German offensive is likely to si- 
lence Russian pacifism, for a time, at 
least. At present the supreme task of 
the government is to save the country 
from the invader. Unfortunately, the 
army is in a state of demoralisation, the 
completeness of which has been amply 
demonstrated by the Galician debacle 
and the fall of Riga. 

In his speech at the Moscow Confer- 
ence General Kornilov attributed the 
demoralisation of the army to "the whole 
series of measures taken by those who 
are completely foreign to the spirit and 
needs of the army." The general al- 
luded to the "Decree Regarding the 
Fundamental Rights of Men in the 
Fighting Services" (promulgated by the 
Provisional Government on May 27th), 
which has transformed the Russian army 
into the most democratic military organ- 
isation in the world. Indeed, the sud- 
den transition from the old, indescrib- 
ably brutal military machinery to the 
new system naturally affected the disci- 
pline in the ranks. But the democratisa- 
tion of the army is only one of the fac- 
tors which have brought about its disin- 
tegration. The fact must not be over- 
looked that the uniform-clad Russian 
peasant, ignorant, primitive, swayed by 
rumours and panics, construed freedom 
as synonjrmous with the cessation of this 
war which he did not want in the least. 
Hence — fraternisation with the enemy 
and desertion. Then came the Leninites, 
probably aided by German spies, and 
told the soldiers that this war was a 
land-grabbing game and that the Russian 
army was being driven by the govern- 
ment to fight for conquests which will 
enrich the Anglo-French ruling classes. 
Later the Russian soldier learned that 
the allied governments replied quite 



evasively to the suggestion made by Rus- 
sia to revise the allied war aims on the 
basis of a peace without annexations and 
without indemnities. As a result of 
these various influences, the army, la 
grande muette, broke its age-long silence 
of obedience and refused to shed its 
blood. 

At present, when Germany, it appears, 
is intent upon crushing its defenceless 
Slav neighbour, the war will acquire a 
new meaning to the Russian, and in the 
near future, if the offensive goes on, 
the world may behold the spectacle of a 
nation rising to repel the invaders and 
rapidly regenerating the combative spirit 
of its troops. 

VI THE PILGRIMAGE 

It is certain that the Russian revolu- 
tion has been somewhat of a disappoint- 
ment to a considerable number of those 
who were prompt to hail its august ad- 
vent. The Russian upheaval has 
proven something altogether different 
from the tamely, well-bred, and pathetic 
thing which many had imagined it to be. 
The Russian people are new to the fine 
art of making a coup d'etat after the v 
time-hallowed French recipe. It would 
be futile to deny that the effect of the 
wine of freedom on many weak Russian 
heads was not unlike that produced by 
Circe's magic potion on Ulysses's com- 
panions, and that the drunken voice of 
the eternal Caliban celebrating his 
emancipation from his old master may be 
distinguished in the mighty symphony of 
Russian freedom. The upheaval set 
free not only the constructive energies 
of the Russian multitudes, but also the 
primitive, irrational, destructive nihilism, 
which is one of the mystical aspects of 
the complex Slav soul. 

Surely the blunders and failings of the 
Russian revolution are many and grave. 
Still they do not obscure the fundamental 
fact that for the last six months theworld 
has been watching the spectacle of a 
great people striving, in the midst of the 
most trying circumstances, to give reality 
to a social system more truly democratic 
than any the world has yet seen. The 



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first footsteps of free Russia, for all her 
errings and sins, are like red flashes on 
the grey vastness of history's torrent. 
The Russian revolution is still in the 



making. The war may arrest its course, 
but when the struggle is over Russia will 
resume her pilgrimage to the New Jeru- 
salem of social justice. 



A ROMANOFF PRINCESS 

THE GAY AND PIOUS ELIZABETH 
BY JOSEPH McCABE 



The second daughter of Peter the Great 
and Catherine is one of the most piquant 
figures in the. series of Romanoff wo- 
men. Inheriting a large measure of her 
father's spirit of independence, she had 
been encouraged by the quaint experi- 
ences of the four reigns through which 
she had lived before, in her thirty-third 
year, she herself seized the throne. She 
had grown up, a sharp and merry blue- 
eyed girl, at the court of her mother, the 
Empress Catherine, the one-time servant- 
girl and drudge of the camp, and her 
mother's friend and minister, Prince 
Menshikoff, the former vender of meat- 
pies. Then, in her later teens, she had 
for three years watched the pathetic 
reign of her nephew, Peter II. The boy 
had been fascinated by his pretty and 
lively young aunt, and she had seen with 
disgust the efforts of the scheming Dol- 
gorukis to capture him. Next she had 
studied the astute trickery of the Em- 
press Anne, and had noted with disdain 
the barbaric splendour and power to 
which Anne had promoted her low- 
bom lover, the Duke Biren. Elizabeth 
had sought consolation in gallantries of 
her own until Anne threatened to send 
her to a convent. 

At her death, in 1740, Anne had left 
the throne to the infant son of Anne of 
Brunswick, and the deeper disdain into 
which the court now fell had prepared 
the way for a fresh revolution. Anne 
of Brunswick was a weak, silly, senti- 
mental woman, supremely incapable of 
ruling. She spent her time in morbid 



intimacy with a German adventuress, 
Julia Mengden, while her German hus- 
band surrounded himself with favourites 
of his own country. Russia rumbled 
with murmurs against the foreigners, 
and Elizabeth's French physician, Les- 
tocq, and the French envoy, the Marquis 
de la Chetardie, secretly urged her to 
head a revolution. Their relations were 
suspected, and the Princess had to be 
cautious. Chetardie took a villa up the 
Neva, and Elizabeth was fond of boat- 
ing, so that she contrived many a seem- 
ingly casual meeting. She had also a 
few confidants at court who were ready 
to speculate on the chances of a revolu- 
tion, and she had, especially, the affec- 
tion of the guards. Like her mother, 
she was amiable with the soldiers. She 
held their children at the font and in- 
quired genially about their families. 
Ostermann, the wise old German coun- 
cillor who had survived all revolutions at 
court, detected the conspiracy, and Anne 
was directed to charge her with treason- 
able relations with France and Sweden, 
the enemies of Russia. The interview 
ended in sisterly tears and embraces, and 
the conspirators got speedily to work. 

Ostermann, seeing the weakness of 
Anne, ordered the guard to be ready to 
leave for the frontier within twenty- 
four hours. It was probable, he men- 
daciously said, that Sweden was about 
to reopen the war. He had recently 
quai relied with Elizabeth, and had no 
mind to see her empress. This was on 
December Sth, the day after her inter- 



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view with Anne. That night at ten the 
conspirators met to decide upon imme- 
diate action; Lestocq, the doctor, went 
out into the snow to see that all lights 
were out at Ostermann's mansion and 
the palace. They were as feeble a group 
of conspirators as ever engineered a revo- 
lution in Russia, and Elizabeth wavered 
between dread of a convent and eager- 
ness for the throne. The most active 
and eloquent of them was the French 
physician. Then there were Vorontsoff, 
her chamberlain; Schwartz, her music- 
master; the brothers Schuvaloff, gentle- 
men of her household, and Alexis Razu- 
movsky, her lover at the time, of whom 
we will see more. They raised Eliza- 
beth's courage to the required pitch, and 
Lestocq stealthily introduced twenty 
grenadiers of the guard who professed 
that they were — ^for a consideration — 
ready to die for her. Elizabeth donned 
a cuirass under her cloak and slung a 
crucifix at her breast, and then, after a 
long and fervent prayer, committed her 
fortunes to Proyidence and the modest 
skill of her friends. Her lover was left 
to guard the house. 

At two in the morning the party 
passed swiftly through the frozen streets 
to the Preobrajensky barracks. A small 
crowd of about two hundred soldiers 
gathered round Elizabeth and listened 
to her appeal to support her, the daugh- 
ter of Peter, and exterminate the for- 
eigners. They would cut them to pieces, 
they assured her ; and she had to explain 
that she would have no bloodshed. 
Other soldiers joined them, and pres- 
ently a troop of four hundred marched 
with her and her supporters to the pal- 
ace. It was the tamest revolution Rus- 
sia had yet seen. Ostermann, Golovkin, 
and the other leading ministers were 
pinned into their mansions ; the few loyal 
guards at the palace were thrust aside; 
and the Princess Anne and her friend 
Julia awoke to find Elizabeth in their 
bedroom at the head of a crowd of 
grenadiers. 

Anne was not of the stuff of heroines. 
She meekly begged Elizabeth to spare 
her family and not take away her dear 



Julia, and she and her imperial baby 
were put upon the sledge and driven to 
Elizabeth's house. The blaze of fires in 
the courtyard and noise of soldiers soon 
roused the city, and courtiers and sol- 
diers rushed out to study the situation. 
It is said of Lacy, the Irish commander, 
that, when a friend asked him which 
party he stood for, he promptly replied: 
"For the party that is in power." Few 
were so candid in speech, but all behaved 
alike. They rushed to take the new 
oath of allegiance, and the Empress 
Elizabeth inaugurated her reign. 

Elizabeth insisted that there should 
be no bloodshed, but what happened may 
give the true measure of such advance 
as this indicated. The little Emperor 
Ivan and his parents must, she said, re- 
ceive a pension and go back to Germany. 
Anne and Anthony, glad to escape so 
lightly, started for the frontier, but a 
courier reached them before they had 
left Russia, and they were imprisoned at 
Riga. After a time they were trans^ 
ferred, still prisoners, to Oranienburg. 
Whether Elizabeth was struggling with 
her own glimmer of conscience or with 
less humane counsellors, it would be dif- 
ficult to say. She consulted everybody. 
Was her life really in danger, or might 
she follow the impulse of humanity and 
let the weak-minded couple depart? 
Humanity was a new and rare thing in 
Russia. They were eventually banished 
to the frozen shore of the Arctic Ocean, 
where they lived in the hut of a common 
peasant. 

The "clemency" of Elizabeth— of 
which the decrees of the time speak — 
was equally exhibited toward the sur- 
viving servants of her father and her 
predecessor. Away with the Germans, 
was the cry; and a few distinguished 
Russians were included in the batch of 
prisoners who now looked forward to 
the customary reprisals. Old Oster- 
mann, gouty and stoical, had fought 
Elizabeth, and he knew that his forty 
years of sound service would count for 
nothing. He was to be broken on the 
wheel. Miinnich was to lose his hands 
and his head; Golovkin his head; and 



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so on. A vast crowd gathered in the 
square on January 29th to see the "trait- 
ors" butchered. At the last moment an 
order of the Empress spared Ostermann 
the wheel and changed the sentence to 
decapitation. The old man moved to- 
ward the block, and a new order changed 
the punishment to exile. He quietly 
asked for his coat, and was packed off 
to the bleak northern region to which he 
had once helped to send the former 
minister Menshikoff. The crowd mur- 
mured when fresh orders from the Em- 
press cheated them of the sight of blood. 
General Munnich was sent to the spot 
— the very house — in Siberia to which 
he had sent the minister Biren, who was 
summoned back to life. They met on 
the way, in Siberia, and bowed ; and the 
great soldier settled down to rearing 
chickens and growing vegetables. The 
others were scattered over the bleak 
North. There had been no torture of 
witnesses — ^though much suborning of 
witnesses — and no bloodshed. Russia 
was improving. 

While the goats were scattered, the 
sheep were gathered on the right hand. 
Vorontsoff became a leading minister, 
and his humble colleagues strutted also 
in gold lace and silks. Lestocq, first' 
physician of the new court, was so richly 
rewarded with gold and favour that he 
imagined himself the prime spirit of the 
new regime, and presently came to 
grief. The Marquis de la Chetardie be* 
came a saviour of Russia (which he 
would like to ruin in the interest of 
France, and indeed expected to be at 
least gravely weakened under the rule 
of Elizabeth), and soldiers kissed his 
hand. The guards^ heavily rewarded, 
put on insufferable airs, and wandered 
insolently about the palace as if they 
were part-owners of it. The state of the 
court was chaotic, and foreign envoys 
sent word home that Russia would sink 
back into barbarism. 

The strange fortune of Alexis Ra- 
zumovsky deserves a paragraph. He 
was a tall, handsome Cossack, with fine 
black eyes and eyebrows and a rich black 
beard: a man in his thirty-fourth year 



when wealth and power were thus thrust 
upon him. Twenty years earlier he had 
been a guardian of his father's sheep and 
a chorister in the church of the little 
Cossack village where his mother kept 
an inn. An imperial courier, passing 
through, had heard him sing, and had 
sent him to St. Petersburg to be trained 
and then got him a place in the choir 
of the imperial palace at Moscow. He 
was then twenty-two, and Elizabeth 
saw and appropriated him for her house- 
hold. The Marquis de la Chetardie 
says that one of her maids first appro- 
priated the handsome Cossack, and 
Elizabeth got the news from her. To 
tell all the legends of the Russian court 
would need many volumes, and would 
offend the taste of our polite age, but no 
one seriously questions that Razumovsky 
took the place of Elizabeth's latest lover 
whom the Empress Anne had sent to 
Siberia. 

At Elizabeth's accession he was made 
a count and a field marshal. He was 
never spoiled by prosperity — ^**You may 
make me a field marshal," he said 
genially, "but you'll never make me a 
soldier" — and never interfered in poli- 
tics. He took his great wealth pleas- 
antly and generously, and drank roy- 
ally. His brother and relatives were — 
not by him, but by the Empress — simi- 
larly enriched, and even his old Cossack 
mother was brought from her inn, richly 
dressed, and presented at court. There 
was a story that the bewildered woman 
took her own reflection in the glass for 
the Empress and nervously curtsied to it ; 
which would not flatter Elizabeth, as 
she was still one of the most handsome 
women of Russia. 

Whether Elizabeth ever married Ra- 
zumovsky cannot be exactly determined. 
It is generally accepted that she pri- 
vately, at the instigation of her confessor, 
married him iii the fall of 1742. Eliza- 
beth openly doted on him, and would 
always have him with her. He kept his 
even temper when, in her later years, 
she returned to her early license, and he 
was present at her death ; after which, it 
is said, he was seen to burn a casket of 



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papers which may have included a wed- 
ding certificate. 

A still greater favourite, in a differ- 
ent way, was Elizabeth's nephew, Karl 
Peter Ulrich, son. of the Duke of Hol- 
stein-Gottorp and Anne of Mecklen- 
burg, the elder daughter of Catherine 
and Peter. His mother had died of con- 
sumption a few months after his birth 
at Kiel, in 1728, and her sickly taint was 
on the boy. He was mean in body, in- 
tellect, and character, and as his father 
had died when he was eleven, his educa- 
tion had been rough. Elizabeth sent for 
him, gave him excellent tutors, and com- 
pletely spoiled what bit of manliness he 
had. He was made a grand duke and 
heir to the throne — being the last male 
with any Romanoff blood — and, as he 
disliked the Empress!s feminine circle, 
he . surrounded himself with Germans, 
affected a contempt for Russia, and 
laughed at his aunt's amours. He made 
peep-holes in the chamber in which she 
rioted at night, and called the maids to 
enjoy the spectacle. 

But Elizabeth was very far from be- 
ing a fool. She adopted Peter in order 
to keep the crown in her father's family, 
making, out of dynastic feeling, a mis- 
take which wise men like Marcus Au- 
relius had made. For the government 
of the country she chose her men well, 
as a rule, and she tried to put a stop to 
the disgraceful rivalry which had so 
often rent the court. At first her chief 
ministers were her grand Chamberlain, 
Prince Tcherkasky, a corrupt old noble 
of the traditional school, and his son-in- 
law, Trubetskoi. But she saw the greater 
merit of Michael Bestuzheff, the Grand 
Marshal of her household, a grave and 
learned man, and his able younger 
brother, Alexis, who was to become her 
chief minister. 

Elizabeth herself was lazy. She let 
documents wait weeks for her signature 
and at ordinary times paid little atten- 
tion to affairs. Her more resolute ad- 
mirers say that she was so consdentious 
that she took weeks to consider a matter. 
She was, in point of fact, a thorough 
patriot, eager to maintain the work of 



her father; but most of her time was 
spent in the preservation of her health 
and beauty and the satisfaction of her 
insatiable thirst for pleasure. Her toilet 
took several hours every day, and it did 
not generally begin before midday, as 
she was apt to sit up with her intimate 
friends until the early hours of the 
morning. It is said that she drank 
heavily in her later years. Her chief 
passion was for dress and entertainment. 
In a palace fire she lost four thousand 
costly dresses, yet there were fifteen 
thousand in her wardrobe when she 
died. She had a large and CH>ulent fig- 
ure — a little too opulent as time went 
on — 2L face with few rivals in Russia, 
charming blue eyes and dark-golden hair. 

One of her characteristics was a love 
of dressing as a soldier or sailor. She 
had a good warrant for this in the ex- 
ample of her parents; and, to say the 
truth, she thought no lady of her court 
could match her in male dress. So fancy- 
balls became very frequent, and Eliza- 
beth, who was still fond of dancing and 
hunting until she grew too heavy, made 
a handsome Dutdi sailor or colonel of 
the guard. She would change her gar- 
ments three times in a ball, a dozen 
times in a day. Like the Empress Anne, 
she set her face against the old Russian 
debauches, and was for a French ele- 
gance, or a poor imitation of it. Luxury 
of every kind she encouraged, until the 
court shone with diamonds and gold 
brocade; and for her operas, singers 
were brought from the ends of Europe. 
Reading was bad for the health, she said, 
and she avoided it. 

She was, and always had been, very 
pious. There she differed emphatically 
from her father, and the orthodox clergy 
fell furiously upon dissenters and se- 
ceders. She observed the fasts rigour- 
ously; she knelt in prayer until she 
fainted; and she had a great veneration 
for the relics of the saints and holy 
places. To the end, she made pilgrim- 
ages afoot to famous shrines like the 
Troitsa monastery. In her youth she had 
made the journey in a day, and had had 
a lover to meet her there. Now she 



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would walk out a few miles from Mos- 
cow — ^thc court spent one year in four at 
Moscow — ^then ride back to the city, and 
begin her pilgrimage on the morrow 
at the point where she had left it the 
day before. It often took weeks to make 
a pilgrimage. She insisted so closely on 
decency that one day, as she prayed in 
church, it occurred to her that the 
angels painted on the walls were really 
cupids, and she had them repainted. 
Her own gallantries we will see later. 

With all this she, as I said, paid sub- 
stantial attention to the interests of Rus- 
sia. Sweden had collapsed in the late 
struggle, but Chetardie and Lestocq 
were instructed to induce her to be gen- 
erous and give it some of the territory 
taken from it. It is generally difficult 
to disentangle the action of a sovereign 
from that of her advisers, and Elizabeth 
may have more credit for firmness than 
she deserves. She, at all events, refused, 
and the war went on until Sweden was 
crushed. Russia kept a large part of 
Finland. At last intercepted letters 
made it plain to the Empress that the 
gallant French marquis who bowed and 
flattered her was really trying to injure 
Russia in the interest of his country, and 
he had to go. She was, however, still 
infatuated with France and her French 
doctor, though Count Bestuzheff, who 
became her chief adviser, persistently 
warned her against France. Lestocq, who 
took bribes from all powers and fancied 
himself a master of intrigue, now, with 
the aid of the French minister, made a 
desperate attempt to win her. 

Elizabeth's chief rival in good looks 
w^s Natalia Lapukhina, a noble lady of 
equal freedom in manners and morals 
who had viciously tormented Elizabeth 
when she was the Cinderella of the 
court. To her surprise she had been, 
at the coronation, made a Lady-in-Wait- 
ing. But she remained insolent, and at 
a ball she appeared in a pink robe and 
with pink roses in her hair; and pink 
was understood to be an imperial mo- 
nopoly at Elizabeth's court. Elizabeth's 
temper was much shorter than her 
prayers. Many a maid got the heavy 



imperial slipper across her mouth for 
talking when the Empress dozed on her 
couch, and her language at times re- 
sembled that of the guards. She had a 
buffoon cruelly tortured for playing a 
trick which frightened and upset her. 
She now fell furiously upon the auda- 
cious Lady-in-Waiting. She sent for 
scissors, made her kneel while she cut 
off the roses (and hair along with 
them), and cuffed her twice across the 
face. "Serves her ri^t," she said, when 
they told her that the countess had 
fainted. To her bosom friend the Coun- 
tess Bestuzheva, wife of the elder Bes- 
tuzheff, Natalia often told what she 
thought of the Empress, and in both 
families the talk over the tea was mildly 
seditious. Lestocq got his agents to ply 
Natalia's son, young Colonel Lapukhina, 
with drink and learn it. 

And on July 21, 1743, the physician 
rushed to the palace with a report of a 
conspiracy. Elizabeth lived in daily 
dread of a conspiracy, knowing how easy 
such things were in Russia. She cow- 
ered behind a hedge of soldiers and let 
Lestocq arrest whom he would. She 
had humanely abolished torture and the 
death sentence; but this was a different 
matter. Natalia and her husband and a 
score of others were imprisoned, and the 
old torture-chamber rang again with the 
shrieks of delicate women whose limbs 
were stretched until they cracked. It is 
said, but it is difficult to believe, that 
Elizabeth was secretly at hand to hear 
their confessions. There was, in fact, 
no conspiracy to confess, but Lestocq was 
one of the commissioners appointed to 
examine the prisoners, and Elizabeth was 
stung by the table-talk that was wrung 
from them. One of the women was 
pregnant, and the Empress was asked 
to spare her the torture. "She did not 
spare me," said the daughter of Peter 
the Great. 

They were all condemned to death. 
For ten days Elizabeth lingered over the 
sentence, but in the end she observed her 
own decree. She commuted the sentences 
to exile, flogging, and mutilation. Na- 
talia Lapukhina, a beautiful woman in 



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the prime of life, was partly stripped 
before an immense crowds and brutally 
knouted. She sank, covered with blood, 
to the floor of the scaffold, and the exe- 
cutioner roughly finished his work, and, 
with a brutal laugh, offered to sell her 
tongue to the highest bidder. Countess 
Bestuzheff slipped a bribe into the man's 
hands. The lash fell less heavily on her 
white back, and less of her tongue was 
cut out. The mutilated wretches went 
the worn way to Siberia and the North. 
Count Michael Bestuzheff, who was in- 
nocent, was despatched on a foreign em- 
bassy. Alexis, at whom the French had 
chiefly aimed, was untouched. He was 
astute as well as able. 

At the end of the year Elizabeth 
transferred the court to Moscow, and 
prepared it for a new sensation. She 
had chosen a bride, or a girl to be trained 
as bride, for her wastrel of a nephew. 
After her weakness for France, which 
was then a deadly rival of Russia, came 
a weakness for Frederick the Great, who 
was far more cynical and crafty in his 
professions of friendship and determina- 
tion to sacrifice Russia's interests to his 
own. He flattered Elizabeth, and 
laughed at her. Hearing that there was 
question of a future empress, he strongly 
recommended the daughter of the Prince 
of Anhalt-Zcrbst, one of his own gen- 
erals. A courier sped to the little court 
where Sophia Augusta Frederika lived 
quietly with her mother, and that lady, 
a remarkably ambitious person for her 
station in life, hurried to St. Petersburg 
and on to Moscow. Both Peter and 
Elizabeth were indecently impatient to 
sec the bride-elect, and they professed 
themselves entirely satisfied with the 
quick-eyed, precocious maiden of four- 
teen who would one day be Catherine 
the Great. 

The years that followed were filled 
with the European struggle, which does 
not much concern us here. The capture 
of the letters of Chetardie exposed the 
machinations of both France and Prus- 
sia. Elizabeth found herself described 
as living in a state of "voluptuous 
lethargy," and her passion for France 



and Frederick suddenly chilled. Alexis 
Bestuzheff became her chief counsellor, 
and inclined her toward England and 
Austria. The court was honeycombed 
by intrigue, and even the favourite Les- 
tocq was at length (1748) detected in 
his treachery. He was put to the torture 
and banished. 

Elizabeth was not long drawn out of 
her "voluptuous lethargy." In fact, the 
attainment of middle age seemed to bring 
back the looseness of her youth, and her 
lovers were the jest of the courts of 
Europe. One of her pages, Ivan Shu- 
valoff, was promoted and placed in 
apartments near those of the Empress. 
Ivan took his good fortune modestly, but 
the customary tribe of relatives appeared 
and blossomed into wealthy and influen- 
tial courtiers. Count Bestuzheff and 
others were alarmed, and they put in the 
way of the Empress a very handsome 
young amateur actor named Beketo£F. 
Elizabeth genially added the youth to 
the intimate circle which caroused in her 
room at night, but Peter Schuvaloff, 
uncle of the earlier favourite, did not 
like the prospect. The more credible 
version of his action is that he met young 
Beketoff one day, and, impressing upon 
him how much the Empress liked to see 
her favourites fresh and healthy, gave 
him a box of ointment for his face. 
There was in the stuff something which 
caused an eruption of the skin, and his 
condition was represented to the Em- 
press in such a light that she fled. 

The later years of the reign were 
filled with the inevitable Prussian war. 
After years of diplomatic struggle Eliza- 
beth, in 1756, concluded an alliance with 
England. To her great disgust, and 
Bestuzheff's grave danger, England then 
formed an alliance with Frederick, and 
the French redoubled their efforts to 
oust Bestuzheff and recover the friend- 
ship of Russia. By this time the Prin- 
cess Catherine openly disdained her hus- 
band and went her own way. For years 
the Empress, eager to see an heir to the 
throne she would leave to Peter, tried to 
bring them together, but each hated the 
other, and Catherine found consolation 



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A Romanoff Princess 



elsewhere. In 1754, however, Catherine 
had a son who was presumed to be a 
Romano£F. Elizabeth fell ill^ and Bes- 
tuzheff, believing that she would die, 
approached Catherine, through her latest 
lover Poniatowski, and suggested that he 
could make her Empress and she should 
support his anti-French and anti-Prus- 
sian policy. 

Elizabeth recovered, however, and de- 
clared that the good of the world de- 
manded the destruction of Frederick of 
Prussia, who had said caustic things 
about her. The Seven Years War 
opened, and Russia joined France and 
Austria against Prussia. The Russian 
army under General Apraksin won a 
great victory, and then, instead of press- 
ing it, retiried. Now this coincided with 
a second serious illness of the Empress, 
and the French envoy raised a cry of 
treachery. Vorontsoff, who waited im- 
patiently for the official shoes of Count 
Bestuzheff, and hated Catherine, joined 
the French in demanding an inquiry. 
Bestuzheff 's papers were searched, and it 
was found that he had been in communi- 
cation with Catherine. A plot was easily 
constructed out of this material. Bes- 
tuzheff was to raise Catherine's baby to 
the throne and make her Regent; and 
Apraksin's troops were withdrawn to- 
ward the capital for the event of the 
death of Elizabeth. 

Catherine in later years looked back 
with a shudder upon that critical time. 
Bestuzheff contrived to send her word 
that he had burned her letters, and there 
was no danger, but she saw a very seri- 
ous danger. She wrote to Elizabeth, and 
for weeks she received no answer. At 
last she was summoned to the Empress's 
room. Her enemy, Alexis Shuvaloff, was 
with the Empress, her husband, another 
enemy, waited in the room, and on the 
table she saw letters that she had writ- 
ten to Apraksin. They were innocent 
letters, but what right had she to com- 
municate with commanders in the field, 
as if she were already Empress? With 
tears and prayers she mollified the angry 



Empress, and her enemies were beaten. 
Apraksin died of "apoplexy/' and Bes- 
tuzheff was compelled to retire to his 
estates. 

For the brief remainder of the reign 
of the Empress Elizabeth, Catherine 
went warily. Elizabeth, who was little 
beyond her fiftieth birthday, would not 
control her appetites, and her health 
slowly departed. She became a chronic 
invalid, and would lie for hours on a 
couch admiring the little babe, Paul, 
who would carry on the line of the 
Romanoffs. Some misgiving in regard 
to the future seemed to trouble her. 
Peter, though a Romanoff, was emphat- 
ically and brutally German. He lived 
in an entirely German atmosphere — an 
atmosphere of smoke and beer-fumes and 
Teutonic disdain of everything Russian. 
Catherine, on the other hand, had de- 
veloped into a thorough Russian. Her 
strong sense and feeling of policy told her 
to eradicate all Germanism from her 
composition and wholly transnationalise 
herself. Peter had an immense admira- 
tion of Prussia and Frederick, while 
Catherine was a Russian patriot. 

And Elizabeth hated Prussia. Through- 
out her last years she kept alive the 
League against Frederick and spurred 
her generals in the struggle. Frederick 
sought peace, and she refused it. France 
and Russia became faint under their ef- 
forts and sacrifices^ and she lashed them 
to the task. All through the year 1761 
her strength ebbed, and she saw Fred- 
erick sinking from defeat to defeat. 
Would death spare her to see Prussia 
crushed? Would that unhappy nephew 
take over her power before her work 
was completed, and spare his idol? Her 
own ministers drooped, and her resources 
wore thin, but she cried for decisive and 
utter victory. In December a fit of 
coughing brought on hemorrhage, and 
she entered the last stage. She died on 
January 11, 1762, in the fifty-third year 
of her age, by no means the least pic- 
turesque figure of the Romanoff gallery 
of monarchs. 



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LIFE AND THE THEATRE 



BY CLAYTON HAMILTON 



The quickest answer to the question, 
"What is the purpose of art?", would 
come with the retort courteous, "What 
is the purpose of life?"; for both aims 
are indeed identical, since art is nothing 
else than the quintessence of life. 

The purpose of life has been discussed 
ever since the human race became articu- 
late; and an adequate review of this dis- 
cussion would require a resume of all 
the great religions of the world. With- 
out attempting to cover the entire sub- 
ject, the present writer asks permission 
to offer an opinion concerning what ap- 
pear to him to be the noblest and the 
meanest answers to this all-important 
question. 

The most ignoble definition of the 
purpose of life — ^with the exception, of 
course, of that definition which is prof- 
fered at the present moment by the Ger- 
man Kaiser and his tributary deity — was 
formulated, in fairly recent times, by 
the Puritans of England and the Cal- 
vinists of Scotland. According to the 
concept of these dour, sour, glowering 
religionists, this world is nothing but a 
vale of tears, through which a man 
should slink whining, like a beaten dog 
with his tail between his legs, in the 
hope of being caught up subsequently 
into a nobler and a better life which 
shall offer to him a renewal of those 
opportunities for positive appreciation 
which, on principle, he had neglected 
throughout the pitiful and wasted period 
of his sojourn upon earth. The Puri- 
tans and Calvinists warned their devo- 
tees against the lure of beauty, and 
branded it as an ensnarement of the 
devil; and, by this token, they are 
damned, if there is such a sentence as 
damnation in the supreme court of ever- 
lasting law. 

The noblest answer to the basic ques- 
tion, "What is the purpose of life?", was 



asseverated by the noblest men who ever 
lived, — those great Athenians who 
crowned this earth with their Acropolis, 
two thousand and four hundred years 
ago. These men asserted that our 
world should be regarded as a valley of 
soul-making, — a sort of training-camp 
for infinite futurity, in which the indi- 
vidual should find an opportunity to in- 
dicate his worthiness to live, by accept- 
ing every offered chance to prove him- 
self alive. 

That lovely and lasting phrase, "the 
valley of soul-making," was not in- 
vented by the ancient Greeks: it was 
formulated by John Keats, who is their 
true apostle to all modern nations, and, 
because of that, the greatest poet of re- 
cent centuries. It was Keats, ako, who 
was destined to remind a forgetful 
world that "Beauty is Truth, Truth 
Beauty," and that both of these ideals 
are identical with the ideal of Right- 
eousness. There is one God, in three 
aspects: — Beauty, which appeals to the 
emotions; Truth, which appeals to the 
intellect; Righteousness, which appeals 
to the conscience. This is the Gospel 
according to John Keats : this is the Law 
and the Prophets. 

If this world — according to the an- 
cient Greeks — is to be regarded as a val- 
ley of soul-making, and if — according to 
the apostolic vision of John Keats — 
there is no basic difference between 
Beauty, Truth, and Righteousness, it be- 
comes the duty of every transient visitor 
to this valley to develop^in the little 
time allotted to him — what Mr. Kipling 
has described as "the makin's of a 
bloomin' soul," by keeping his spirit at 
all moments responsive and awake to 
every drifting evidence of what is True 
or Beautiful or Right. 

This conception of the world as a 
training-camp which offers an appren- 



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Life and the Theatre 



ticeship for infinite futurity is an idea 
which appeals very strongly to the pres- 
ent writer at the present moment. It 
may not be absolute, but it is at least 
inspiriting, — more inspiriting, indeed, 
than most of the other ideals that have 
been offered by a searching study of all 
the great religions of the world. 

If the purpose of life is to prove our- 
selves alive, in order to indicate our fit- 
ness for continuing to live in some hypo- 
thetical domain where second chances 
are accorded in the future, it behooves 
us to live as intensely and convincingly 
as possible throughout that fleeting pe- 
riod of three score years and ten which 
is allotted to us, on the average, in this 
immediate valley of soul-making. 

It is only at infrequent intervals 
throughout our period of living that the 
best of us is able to feel himself to be 
alive. Sir Thomas Browne has penned 
an eloquent comment on this fact, in the 
concluding section of his famous Letter 
to a Friend, in which he says, — "And 
surely if we deduct all those days of our 
life which we might wish unlived, and 
which abate the comfort of those we 
now live; if we reckon up only those 
days which God hath accepted of our 
lives, a life of good years will hardly be 
a span long." There is also— in the 
record of eternal literature — a compara- 
tively recent poem by John Masefield, 
called Biography, in which the poet, be- 
moaning the ironic chance that many in- 
considerable days in his experience may 
be reduced by his biographer "to lists of 
dates and facts," celebrates with lyric 
eloquence the unrecorded dates of sev- 
eral magnificent impressions and expres- 
sions of the soul which would escape the 
merely secondary apperceptiveness of any 
scholarly investigator. 

The purpose of life appears to be to 
live while yet we may — as the poet 
Tasso told us, in one of the most forlorn 
and lovely passages of lyric literature, — 
to seize every fleeting opportunity for 
feeling and asserting that we are alive, 
in order to indicate our fitness for con- 
tinuing to live in some hypothetic fu- 
ture region, "beyond the loom of the 



last lone star through open darkness 
hurled." Immortality, in order to be 
won, should be deserved; and no man 
is worthy of eternal life unless he has 
accepted every chance for living that has 
been offered to him in his transitory 
progress throughout this drear but 
dreamful valley of soul-making. 

We feel ourselves to be alive only at 
those divided and ecstatic moments when 
we overwhelmingly become aware of the 
identity of Beauty, Truth, and Right- 
eousness, and thereby undergo an instant 
flash of cosmic consciousness. It is ever- 
more our purpose to repeat these mo- 
ments. We desire to live, in order to 
feel and to prove ourselves to be alive. 
Many of us follow false allurements — 
drink or drugs, religion or the unspon- 
taneous and manufactured fire of simu- 
lated love; but if such mortals fail in 
their pursuit, their failure should be writ- 
ten down to inexperience and not neces- 
sarily to conscious abnegation of a float- 
ing and far-off ideal. "Beauty is Truth, 
Truth Beauty"; and this axiom is so 
augustly sound that it is nobler to faint 
and fall in the pursuit of some ignis fa- 
tuus of truth or beauty than to slink 
through all experience reservedly, like 
a cringing cur with tail between the legs. 

In the experience of the average man 
— ^whose acuteness of perception in the 
intellectual, emotional, or moral sphere 
is merely ordinary — the actuality of liv- 
ing offers only infrequent and wistful 
opportunities for life. For this reason, 
he is required to rely on art, to present 
to him those opportunities for life that 
he has missed. Art extracts the quintes- 
sence of life, and serves it up freely to 
millions of men who, because of their 
own dulness, have not been able to ex- 
tract it for themselves. Art offers, to 
the average man, the only royal road 
[or short-cut] to an appreciation of all 
the wonders of this valley of soul-mak- 
ing, and affords him the only available 
opportunity to experience the sense of 
life vicariously. 

This, then, is the excuse for art, and 
the answer to any theoretic question that 
seeks to probe its purpose: — the aim of 



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Life and the Theatre 



163 



art is to provide a sense of life for men 
who, in themselves, are not sufficiently 
alive to create art by their very living. 

We may come now — as a corollary 
of this thesis — to consider the proper 
function of the theatre. The theatre 
exists — in theory — as an institution 
which promises to provide the ordinary 
man with a keen impression of life, in 
exchange for two dollars of money and 
two hours of time. The theater promises 
the public a more instant and intense sen- 
sation of the miracle of life than is usu- 
ally offered in a month of living. The 
average man has only a few years to live 
— in this valley of soul-making; and if 
he can save a day, a month, or possibly a 
year by going to the theatre, he is more 
than willing — as the phrase is — to "take 
a chance." But in response to this fi- 
delity, which can only be regarded 
as idealistic, the theatre incurs and is re- 
quired to assume the duty of offering to 
the average man the promised taste of 
life. 

There are two ways in which the 
theatre can furnish to the public a vicari- 
ous experience of life: first, by imitation, 
and, second, by suggestion. The first 
method is employed by the realists, and 
the second method is employed by the 
romantics. This is not a time to argue 
concerning the respective merits of these 
two contrasted methods: it is sufficient, 
in the present context, to state that 
neither method can succeed in practice 
unless it shall convince the public that 
the two hours required for the traffic of 
the stage have been spent more profitably 
in the theatre than they might have been 
spent elsewhere. 

The average spectator — disappointed, 
for the moment, by his individual ex- 
perience of living at large — attends the 
theatre in the hope of quickening his 
consciousness of life. He wants the play 
to happen not so much upon the stage 
as in himself. He goes to the theatre — 
quite literally — to enjoy himself: — that 
is to say, — ^his own contributive response 
of emotion and of thought. The play 
must happen to him; or else, by his judg- 
ment, the play must be dismissed as a 



failure. He is seeking an opportunity 
to live and to feel himself alive; and, 
if this opportunity is not accorded to 
him, he will warn his friends away 
from the production that he has at- 
tended. 

For this reason, a realistic play that 
invites the quick response of recognition 
for facts that have been faithfully ob- 
served must carry out the letter of its 
contract; and a romantic play, which 
pretends, without reliance on admitted 
and accepted facts, to suggest some evi- 
dent, irrefutable law of nature, must 
also convince the members of the audi- 
ence that they have really witnessed 
vicariously a vision of life itself, as life 
is generally understood. 

Nothing, in the theatre, can ever be 
successful unless it offers some vicari- 
ous experience of life. The best-made 
play will fail, unless it affords some sug- 
gestion of life that is more potent than 
its emphasis on mechanism. The popu- 
larity of actresses and actors is measured 
by the extent of their ability to seem 
alive. This ability^ in many cases, may 
result from training and experience; in 
many other cases, it may result more 
directly from that inexplicable power 
which is commonly described as "per- 
sonality." Life is what the public seeks, 
in going to the theatre, and the appear- 
ance, or else the illusion, of life is what 
it welcomes and rewards in those who 
exert themselves behind the footlights. 

The same distinction may be recog- 
nised in studying the effect upon our 
public of the many non-dramatic enter- 
tainments that are offered in our the- 
atre. Take the Hippodrome, for in- 
stance, in which no attempt is made to 
present what is commonly regarded as a 
play. In the course of the current 
"show" at the Hippodrome, the response 
of the public may be rated directly in 
proportion to the sense of life that is sug- 
gested by the various numbers. The 
scene which depicts the departure of a 
troop-ship from New York arouses great 
enthusiasm because all male America at 
present may be dichotomised into men 
who are about to go to France and men 



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164 Snap-Shots of English Authors: G, K. C. 



who would like to go. The members of 
the Mallia Troupe of comic baggage- 
smashers amuse the public, because their 
antics exhibit merely a logical exaggera- 
tion of the method that is commonly em- 
ployed by express companies in handling 
personal property. The evolutions of 
the Berber Troupe of acrobats arouse en- 
thusiasm because they stimulate every 



spectator to an imaginary emulative ex- 
ercise of similar dexterity and grace. 
But, on the other hand, those numbers 
on the programme which offer to the 
public a vision of anything less vivid and 
less real than the public previously has 
experienced, fall dead, — because they are 
unable to compete against a conscious 
and embattled sense of life. 



SNAP-SHOTS OF ENGLISH AUTHORS: G. K. C. 

BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER 

Is IT for himself or the people 

That he sets off these fireworks? 

One sees him materialise from the shadows 

A Brobdingnag pygmy or a Lilliput giant 

Jovially cursitating in the moidering flare 

Of pinwheels that whiz back on themselves. 

Or silhouetted against Gargantuan set-pieces 

Whose knights become windmills; whose anarchists, kings. 

There is always the titillating dread 

Of his patting or clutching too long 

The tail of some hair-trigger sky-rocket. 

Would it burst and bemuse him with suns 

Or lift him and land him in — 

Mystical earwigs. 

What thimblerig Heaven, what Amalthaean Hell? 



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THE MASTERY OF SURPRISE 



BY BLANCHE COLTON WILLIAMS 



"We must have stories with a 'punch,* " 
declares the editor. 

"An unexpected twist at the end — 
that's what I likcl" says the average 
reader. 

"Give me some shock of heaven or 
helir* demands the critic 

The reader of short stories expects, 
nowada3rs, the surprise ending. Rather 
is he surprised if he fails to find it. He 
feels as insipid, and judges as common- 
-place, the ending, which however strong 
and logical, contains not some unlooked 
for element. The ideal denouement is 
striking yet natural ; the unexpected, un- 
natural ending is as absurd as the sim- 
ple, natural solution is too "easy." Yet 
notwithstanding that this is the era of 
the surprise denouement — for it finds its 
greatest development in the twentieth 
century — it made classics of at least two 
stories long before 1900. Thomas Bailey 
Aldrich's "Marjorie Daw" is nigh unto 
fifty years of age; de Maupassant's 
"Necklace" is somewhat younger. 
Among the masters following Aldrich 
and de Maupassant are O. Henry, 
Leonard Merrick, William Wymarck 
Jacobs, and a few prominent disciples. 
Hosts of minor writers are learning this 
trick of the trade. 

Everybody knows the letters that Ed- 
ward Delaney, "at the Pines, near Rye, 
New Hampshire," wrote to his friend 
John Flemming, who lay abed of a 
broken leg, in West Thirty-eighth Street, 
New York. And everybody knows that 
the young woman so delicately yet so 
powerfully described as to catch the 
fancy of Flemming did not, after all, 
exist. And nearly everybody remembers 
that it is the very last sentence which 
reveals the hoax Delaney has played, and 
the consequences of which he hps fled to 
escape: "For oh, dear Jack, there isn't 
any colonial mansion on the other side 



of the road, there isn't any piazza, there 
isn't any hammock — ^there isn't any 
Marjorie Dawl" 

Not everybody recognises, however, 
nor for some time did story writers 
themselves seem to recognise, that this 
denouement is but an instance of a gen- 
eral method. It is being used frequently 
now. Deceit practised by one character 
upon another need not be revealed until 
the end of the story. Such deceit may 
be unpleasant or pleasant. Now, the 
reader of "Marjorie Daw" just escapes 
the bitterest disappointment; but, fortu- 
nately, he may guess before the denoue- 
ment what Flemming did not foresee — 
and will, therefore, find compensation in 
his own superiority, or in Flemming's 
discomfiture. Even if he does not begin 
to suspect Delaney's ruse, still he finds 
consolation in the fact that Flemming 
was hoaxed: Misery loves company. 

This first general means of creating 
surprise, O. Henry employed — ^with 
variations — in "The Furnished Room," 
"The Caballero's Way" (wherein dis- 
guise enters, by way of carrying out the 
deceit), "Lost on Dress Parade," and 
elsewhere. The best example of the 
type, perhaps, is "The Furnished Room." 
The story opens with a young man who 
is searching among the tenements in a 
squalid section of New York. At the 
last house he takes lodgings. 

As the housekeeper moved away he put 
for the thousandth time the question that he 
carried at the end of his tongue: 

"A young girl — ^Miss Vashner — ^Miss 
Eloise Vashner— do you remember such a 
one among your lodgers? She would be 
singing on the stage, most likely. A fair 
girl of medium height and slender, with 
reddish, gold hair, and a dark mole near 
her left eyebrow." 

"No, I don't remember the name, ..." 
the housekeeper deliberately replies. 



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The Mastery of Surprise 



The story continues with the young 
man*s despair, the visitation of the mign- 
onette ghost and the suicide. 

Then comes the revelation of the de- 
ceit: 

It was Mrs. McCooPs night to go with 
the can for beer. So she fetched it and sat 
with Mrs. Purdy in one of those subter- 
ranean retreats where housekeepers fore- 
gather and the worm dieth seldom. 

"I rented out my third floor back this 
evening," said Mrs. Purdy across a fine 
circle of foam. '*A young man took it He 
went up to bed two hours ago." 

"Now, did ye, Mrs. Purdy, ma'am?" said 
Mrs. McCool with intense admiration. "You 
do be a wonder for rentin' rooms of that 
kind. And did ye tell him, then?" She 
concluded in a husky whisper laden with 
mystery. 

"Rooms," said Mrs. Purdy in her furriest 
tones, "are furnished for to rent I did not 
tell him, Mrs. McCool." 

" 'Tis right ye are, ma'am ; 'tis by renting 
rooms we keep alive. . . . There be many 
people will rejict the rentin' of a room if 
they be tould a suicide has been after dyin' 
in the bed of it" 

"As you say, we has our living to be 
making," remarked Mrs. Purdy. 

"Yis, ma'am, 'tis true. 'Tis just one wake 
(his day I helped ye lay out the third floor 
back. A pretty slip of a colleen she was to 
be killin' herself with die gas — a swate little 
face she had, Mrs. Purdy, ma'am." 

"She'd a-been called handsome, as you 
say," said Mrs. Purdy, assenting but cridcal, 
"but for that mole she had a-growin' by her 
left eyebrow. ..." 

The shock of this ending is dependent 
on Mrs. Purdy *s lie. The reader is not 
hoaxed, or cheated, however; for the 
tragedy she concealed, outweighing the 
secondary consideration of the falsehood, 
staggers one by its importance and im- 
presses by its fitness. Moreover, the 
narrator dares use abundant clues. The 
personality of the woman is such that one 
may suspect her of lying, even before the 
act; the suggestion in the fragrance of 
mignonette confirms the suspicion that 
Eloise Vashner has occupied the third 



floor back. Further, by keeping the spot- 
light on the young man — until the final 
shift — ^the author makes easier the work-, 
ing of the deceit. 

The influence of "Marjorie Daw" is 
traceable also in the stories of Leonard 
Merrick. This English writer's own 
testimony indicates as much: 

I never hear the absorbing art of the 
conte mentioned without my thoughts dart- 
ing to a short story that I read more than 
twenty years ago and have never seen since. 
Sometimes I wonder whether I have been 
unconsciously influenced by it in determining 
the form of several of my own experiments 
in this field of fiction. It happens occasion- 
ally that I am paid the high compliment of 
being told that as a short-story writer I 
"owe much to an attentive study . of the 
methods of Maupassant and Anatole 
France." And then I have not the least 
hesitation in saying that I owe nothing at 
all to it But I would not declare with such 
certainty that I owe nothing to the swirl 
of enthusiasm that I felt as a boy on the 
afternoon that I read Thomas Bailey Aid- 
rich's Marjorie Daw. . . . — Neio York 
Times, Jan. 25, 1914. 

Mr. Merrick's surprises, as mere exer- 
cises of the technical gymnast, are 
marvels of cleverness. Consider, for ex- 
ample^ his "Tragedy of a Comic Song." 
Before summarising the plot and dis- 
cussing the denouement let us glance at 
the beginning and observe the whimsical 
manner : 

I like to monopolise a table in a restau- 
rant, unless a friend is with me, so I re- 
sented the young man's presence. Besides 
he had a melancholy face. If it hadn't been 
for the piano-organ, I don't suppose I should 
have spoken to him. As the organ that 
was afflicdng Lisle Street began to volley 
a comic song of a day that was dead, he 
started. 

"That tune!" he murmured in French. 
If I did not deceive myself tears sprang to 
his eyes. 

I was curious. Certainly, on both sides 
of the Channel we had long ago had more 
than enough of the tune. That the young 



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The Mastery of Surprise 



f67 



Frenchman should wince at the tune I under- 
stood. But that he should weep! 

... I smiled sympathetically. "We suf- 
fered from it over here as well," I re- 
marked. 

"I did not know/' he said in English that 
reproved my French, "it was sung in Lon- 
don, also — 'Partant pour le Moulin ?' " 

. . . "Monsieur, it is my 'istory, that 
comic tune I'' 

The narrative told by the gentleman 
centred about three young people: the 
poet Tricotrin, the composer Pitou, and 
the singer Paulette Fleury. Poet and 
composer, each in love with the girl, 
made for her the song, "Partant pour le 
Moulin." The raconteur concluded: 

''Listen! when they have gone to call 
on her one afternoon, she was not at 'ome. 
What had happened? I shall tell you! 
There was a noodle, rich — what you call 
a 'Johnnie in the Stalls* — who became in- 
fatuated with her at the Ambassadeurs. 
. . . Well, she was not at 'ome because she 
had married him. . . . 

"What a moment! Figure yourself what 
they had suffered — ^bothl They had wor- 
shipped her; they had made sacrifices for 
her; they had created for her her grand 
success; and as a consequence of that song, 
she was the wife of the 'Johnnie in the 
Stalls'!" 

As he finished, he heard again the strains 
of the tune floating up from the street. 

"I cannot bear it," he murmured. "The 
associations are too pathetic." 

"They must be harrowing," I said. "Be- 
fore you go, there is one thing I should like 
to Hsk you, if I may. Have I had the 
honour of meeting Monsieur Tricotrin, or 
Monsieur Pitou?" 

He stroked his hat and gazed at me in 
sad surprise. "Oh, but neither, Monsieur," 
he groaned. "The associations are much 
more 'arrowing than that — I was the 
'Johnnie in the Stalls'!" 

It is clear that the surprise in this 
last line results from a new turn. The 
man who told the story did deceive, it 
IS true, but he did so by implication, 
trusting to a false inference on the part 
of his auditor. The reader does not 



enjoy the story less because — on retro- 
spect — ^he indulges the suspicion that the 
stranger was "working off" a trick, quite 
consciously, upon his friend of the restau- 
rant. But more important with respect 
to the surprise of the reader are these 
truths: First, the author has skilfully 
employed the "angle of narration" or 
"point of view" — in the technically nar- 
rative sense; second, he has calculated 
on the reader's expectancy of a more con- 
ventional conclusion. As the story pro- 
gresses the reader is sure — as the auditor 
was sure — that the tearful gentleman is 
one of the rejected suitors. All the de- 
tails seem to bear him out in this assur- 
ance. But the ending offers an entirely 
different reason for the tears. 

This means of effecting surprise has 
been employed recently in a story by 
Holworthy Hall ("The Luck of the 
Devil," Century, June, 1916) ; it was 
thoroughly understood by O. Henry, as 
anyone may deduce from a study of 
"The Hiding of Black Bill." The tac- 
tics in all three stories are identical. O. 
Henry elsewhere takes advantage of the 
well-known principle that a reader helps 
to invent the story. O. Henry grants this 
privilege, and then by his own actual 
ending shows the reader that he, the 
author, has not fallen back on the hack- 
neyed situation and obvious conclusion 
the reader has constructed in a too 
conventional way. "Girl" is an excel- 
lent illustration. 

The first scene is in the law office of 
Robbins and Hartley. A man with an 
air of mystery about him enters and 
speaks to Hartley: "I've found out 
where she lives." Then he presents the 
name, Vivienne Arlington, and the ad- 
dress. Hartley shortly afterward leaves 
the office and makes his way to the Val- 
lombrosa apartment house. He finds 
Vivienne in. Observe the description 
of Vivienne: 

[She] was about twenty-one. She was 
of the purest Saxon type. Her hair was a 
ruddy golden, each filament of the neatly 
gathered mass shining with its own lustre 
and delicate gradation of colour. In per- 



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i68 



The Mastery ot Surprise 



feet harmony were her ivory-clear com- 
plexion and deep-sea blue eyes. 

Hartley reproaches her for not hav- 
ing answered his letter. By this time 
the reader is somewhat puzzled, won- 
dering whether Hartley's design is laud- 
able. When he recalls meeting her at 
the Montgomerys*, he gives the reader a 
clue, "I shall never forget that supper!" 
There is a hint of complication in the 
question he puts to her : 

"Is there anybody else?" 

There is. Mr. Rafford Townsend 
is coming for his answer. Hartley goes 
out, meets Townsend in the hall, and 
declares by the law of the jungle that 
the kill is his. 

After he goes back "to his wooing" 
there is a hint of further complication. 

"Do you think I would enter your 
house while Heloise is there?" 

"She shall go," he declares, "I will 
send her away to-night." 

Then follows the dramatic climax, 
"My answer is yes; come for me when 
you will!" 

The swift drop to the denouement 
shows Hartley one hour and forty min- 
utes later at his suburban home. He is 
met by a woman who runs gladly to 
meet him. Hartley whispers to her. 
"Oh, Mamma!" she cries ecstatically, 
"Vivienne is coming to cook for us. . . . 
Go down, Billy, and discharge Heloise. 
She has been drunk again the whole day 
long." 

Now, there is no earthly reason why 
two servants should not have the names 
of Vivienne and Heloise. But conven- 
tions in literature, which follow conven- 
tions in life, do not usually regard these 
as instances of typical nomenclature. 
Bridget and Becky are the conventional 
representatives. But O. Henry caught 
his opportunity for securing material out 
of the incongruous. It is incongruous 
that a beautiful cook should live in the 
Vallombrosa. So far as fairness to the 
reader is concerned, the surprise is bet- 
ter than that of "Marjorie Daw"; so 
far as possibilities are concerned, the 



result is better than "Goliath." There, 
the origin is out. For Aldrich's story 
by this title counts for its effect on the 
reader's assumption that a dog by the 
name of Goliath must of necessity be a 
giant. O. Henry repeated this surprise 
formula in "October and June." Gou- 
verneur Morris played with it bril- 
liantly in "Suffrage in the Wild-wood" 
{Cosmopolitan, March, 1916). The 
method may be represented in diagram: 



T 



C - - 



- - z 



A Z is the course of the story as the 
author devised it. But the reader falling 
upon a false clue at C, let us say, a clue 
derived for the most part from his re- 
liaiicc on the hackneyed, constructs the 
story in his own manner and foresees 
an ending at Z'! He receives a shock 
on leaping from Z' to Z. 

Besides, open deceit, implied deceit, 
clever management of the "angle of 
narration/' and the reliance on a reader's 
sense of convention to finish the story 
differently from the author's plan, there 
is a final patent trick. It may be re- 
garded, even, as a blanket method, cov- 
ering under its folds the cases men- 
tioned above. A surprise may be ef- 
fected by lifting an event or fact out of 
its natural order, and placing it at the 
end of the story. There, if suspense has 
been adequately handled, its effect is in 
proportion to the time it has been with- 
held. Plot order and method of narra- 
tion are both responsible for the shock. 
If A, B, C and so on down to Z repre- 
sent the regular sequence of events, then 
an important point — represented by any 
letter — may be deferred and placed after 
Z. Thus: 



Z (N). 



This is the method which is most out- 
standing in "The Necklace," in O. 



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Snap-Shots of American Novelists: Deland 169 



Henry's "Double Dyed Deceiver," and 
in Jacobs's "The Third String." The 
former as the pioneer deserves atten- 
tion. Madame Loisel borrowed from 
Madame Forestier a diamond necklace. 
Having lost it, she replaced it with an- 
other. For the new necklace she paid a 
large sum, and then worked ten years 
to repay it. At the end of the time she 
learned that the first necklace was paste. 
She would have found this out in the 
usual course of events, when she bor- 
rowed the necklace, or when she replaced 
it. Why was it that she did not find 
out? A careful reading of the story will 
justify the assertion that although there 
are two "scenes" between the ladiei, 
there is no reason why, in either, 
Madame Forestier should have men- 
tioned that the necklace was not genuine. 
On the other hand, it would have been 
natural enough had Madame Forestier 
said, "It's only paste; your delay does 
not matter." If she had done so, how- 
ever, the story would not have existed. 
It is, then, the withholding of the fact 
that makes the astounding denouement, 
joined, as it is, to the method of narra- 
tion which keeps in prominence the 
figure of Madame Loisel. 

These, then, are the chief methods of 



creating surprise* They are found usu- 
ally in combination — as the adduced ex- 
amples indicate — ^but they may operate 
singly; they are employed again and 
again, but not always with ease or dis- 
tinction. Obviously, some character in 
the story may be surprised, and with 
him the reader ; or the reader may be the 
only one not "in the secret" ; again, the 
reader may find out what some character 
never learns. But whatever the nature 
of the surprise, pleasant or unpleasant, 
to character alone or reader alone, or 
both, it should enhance the comedy of 
a humourous story and the tragedy of the 
one that, is gruesome. Though unex- 
pected, it should be natural. It should 
stand the test, always, by a second read- 
ing of the story which will corroborate 
fair dealing on the pjirt of the author. 

*It is true that a pun may be at the 
basis of surprise; for example, see O. 
Henry's '^Ransom of Mack." It is also true 
that a character's forgetful ness may be ex- 
aggerated, to end a farcical story in a 
humourously fitting style; as, for example, in 
"The Romance of a Busy Broker." But these 
causes for surprise are trivial, and usually 
so work as to leave the reader with a "sold 
out" feeling. By their very nature they 
have not been adapted to the more pre- 
tentious conte. Some of these narartives 
dependent on lapse of memory are mere 
farcical anecdotes, as "From the Cabby's 
Seat." 



SNAP-SHOTS OF AMERICAN NOVELISTS 

DELAND 

BY RICHARD BUTLER GLAENZER 

How thrilling but hard 

For the spirit of old New England 

To act young, 

For the rock to compromise 

With the moss, 

Warm heart of a woman 

Smiling through granite lips. 



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THE MASQUE OF POETS* 

EDITED BY EDWARD J. O'BRIEN 

CALYPSO 

Wandbrbr, wc must part — so the gods decree. 

You must go again to Ithaca. 

The cold green waves will wash you of the memory of me, 

Breaking on the coast of Ithaca. 

Built we a house of dreams, beautiful in seeming, 

But for those the Thunderer wakes there is no more dreaming. 

Go now, spread your sail, turn your prow to sea — 

Yonder lies your way to Ithaca. 

Theirs is to obey whom the gods command — 

Holy is the hearth in Ithaca. 

Home and harvest are waiting for your hand — 

Fruitful are the fields of Ithaca. 

Love the life you chose while it still is yours for living 

Lest the jealous gods recall the treasures of their giving. 

Passes our dream like our footprints in the sand — 

Granite are the cliffs of Ithaca. 

/ have sent him back at the gods' decree — 

/ have sent him back to Ithaca. 

Never will I walk again beside the twilight sea 

On the shore that looks toward Ithaca 

Lest the wind should bring to him a breath of days gone by. 

Of the beauty and the sorrow of his madness, that was I — 

Peace to him and his, O Zeus! I ask no more of thee. 

Peace upon that home in Ithaca! 



*''The Masque of Poets" is made up of the following contributors : Thomas 
Walsh, Witter Bynner, Margaret Widdemer, Amelia Josephine Burr, Anna Hemp- 
stead Branch, William Rose Benet, Sarah N. Cleg horn, William Alexand€r Percy, 
Christopher Morley, Vachel Lindsay, Carl Sandburg, Vincent O'Sullivan, John 
Gould Fletcher, Grace Hazard. Conkling, Sara Teasdale, George Sterling, Harriet 
Monroe, Edgar Lee Masters, Arthur Davison Ficke, Bliss Carman, Edwin Arling- 
ton Robinson, Lincoln Colcord, William Stanley Braithwaite, Conrad Aikem, Jo- 
sephine Preston Peabody, Amy Lowell, Charles Wharton Stork, Edward /. O'Brien. 
The series has continued throughout the year, and in the Novemhcr number, the 
poems, given hitherto anonymously, will be listed with their authors' names. 



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The Masque of Poets 171 



FATHERLAND 

Come fingered as a friend, O Death! 
Unfrock me, flesh and bone; 
These frills of smile and moan, 
These laces, traces, all unpin ; 
These veins that net me in. 
This ever lassoing breath, 
Remove from me, 
If here is aught to free! 

To know these hills nor wait for feet ! 

O Earth, to be thy child at last! 
Thy roads all mine, and no white gate 

Inevitably fast! 

To enter where thy banquets are 
When storms are called to feast ; 

And find thy hidden pantry stair 

When Spring with thee would guest ; 

Into thine attic windows step 

From humbled Himalays, 
And round thy starry cornice creep 

Waylaying deities ; 

Though for my hand 

Space hold out spheres like roses, and 

Like country lanes her or|;)its blow — 

My Earth, I know. 

If thou be green and blossom still. 

That I must downward go ; 

Leave stars to keep 

House as they will ; 

The winds to walk or turn and sleep, 

Seas to spare or kill ; 

Behind my back shall sunsets burn 

Bereft of my concern; 

Each wonder passed 

Shall feed my haste. 

Till I have paused, as now, 

Beneath a bending orchard bough, — 

An April apple-bough, 

Where southern waters creep. 



THE EMBERS SPEAK 

I was the acorn that fell 
From the autumn bough 

In the warm earth to dwell; 
I grew to a branch somehow; 



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172 



Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes 



And I waved in the nightly storm, 

And sheltered the kine 
When the hills were yellow and warm 

With the noon divine. 

I, too, 'mid the sheathing moss 

Felt the axe's blow, 
And fell^ with a thunderous loss 

Of the stars I know 
And the clouds that sift no more 

Through my shattered limbs ; 
Save where the hearthstones roar 

And the dying ember dims. 



CASUALS, ROMANCE, AND LITTLE BROWN 

BOXES 

BEING A SHORT COMMENT ON "CASUALS OF THE 
SEA," AND ON WILLIAM McFEE, ITS AUTHOR* 

BY WILSON FOLLETT 



There must be a few happy conscien- 
tious persons who can compete in eulogy 
of this remarkable book without having 
to suspect themselves of inventing or 
exaggerating their views for the occa- 
sion. With those few, the owner of this 
pen may fairly claim a place; for, long 
before there was any thought of competi- 
tion, the same unassuming steel did it- 
self the honour to recognise Casuals of 
the Sea as "by all odds the most notable 
recent work of fiction from an author 
not previously known," "a movingly sad, 
not exactly a tragic tale of lovable in- 
effectual people hunting for a lost due 
to life." Now that those quite disinter- 
ested words stand committed to irrev- 
ocable page-proof, it is something more 
than a pleasure to turn back and amplify 

^Casuals of the Sea: The Voyage of a 
Soul. By William McFee. New York: 
Doubled ay, Page and Company. This is the 
paper that won the $ioo prize offered by 
Doubled ay, Page and Company for the best 
essay on "Casuals of the Sea." The con- 
test was open to all and Mr. Follett's work 
was selected out of hundreds of manuscripts 
submitted. — ^£ditor*8 Note. 



what they tried to express about Mr. 
McFee as artist, philosopher, and friend. 



I 



He is artist, if not before every- 
thing, then in everything, and by this 
seal and token: that to think of him is 
to think first of the multitude of things, 
great and small but always specific, 
through which he expresses himself. 
Ideas he has, and a personality: he can 
be described, if one choose, as a flavour, 
an essence, a colour, a temperature, a 
breeze from a definite quarter. But only 
on synthetic second thought; for he 
translates himself, in the instinctive part 
of the memory, into the thousand aspects 
of his known, his mirrored and recorded 
world. He does not merely make the 
specific illustrate the general, as a para- 
ble illustrates a text: he makes the gen- 
eral become the specific, as a principle 
becomes an action, or as thought be- 
comes language. In short, you make 
your trip through his world, the world 
of his book, and you do not remember 



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Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes 



»73 



It as the world at all. You remember 
it as Little Brown Boxes. 

The original Little Brown Box, you 
will remember, was that tiny Billiter 
Lane tobacco shop in which young Han- 
nibal Gooderich began working out his 
economic destiny at ten shillings a week 
and a commission. A somewhat gawky 
young dreamer, he is put there as clerk 
by the proprietress, his cousin Amelia, a 
material-minded and patronising young 
woman. She feels for Hannibal all the 
condescension of the thrifty for their poor 
relations ; she thinks of him as an appur- 
tenance bought and paid for, like the 
shop ; she will tyrannise over him as she 
chooses, she will marry him if or when 
she likes. To her, this shop, "no larger 
than an ordinary shipping case," is Ro- 
mance; "she had imagination and saw 
her Little Brown Box throwing off 
other Little Brown Boxes until London 
was studded with them." But to Han- 
nibal, Romance is something other than 
this. He "felt the tentacles of Q)mmer- 
cialism closing around him. . . • Across 
the way a steamship company exhibited 
a picture of a great liner at anchor in 
some tropical port of the Far East, the 
white hull surrounded by boats full of 
naked brown men, the blue sea rimmed 
by mountains of a deeper blue and 
crowned by a violet sky. To see 
'strange lands from under the arched 
white sails of ships T " Thus one's meat 
is the other's poison. The same Little 
Brown Box, to her the threshold of life, 
is to him a door slammed in the face 
of all his secret aspirations. Which is 
the way of human nature, the way of 
life. The social philosopher who under- 
stands this magnetism and repulsion of 
the same things for different persons 
generalises the phenomenon into some- 
thing like "the sacredness of difference." 
But the artist who understands it par- 
ticularises it into Little Brown Boxes. 

It is, I take it^ this instinct for the 
specific as a final and adequate expres- 
sion of the general which anoints the 
artist above his fellows. Saying less, he 
means as much — and reveals everything. 
The general alone is but truth; the 



specific alone is but realism. It takes 
both become one to make the truth of 
art. 

This marriage of truth and fact is 
the prime distinction of Casuals of the 
Sea, Not only are the pages crowded, 
as Dickens's proverbially are, with con- 
crete physical things so vivid that they 
have almost the glitter of animation ; but 
the existence of these things is sur- 
charged with intention. A "smudged 
and crinkled copybook" in a snowdrift, 
the lost property of one young candidate 
for a flogging, stands for the eternal 
antagonism of schoolboy and schoolmas- 
ter. The Ideal Plant of a schoolroom 
botany chart — "It made you feel keenly 
what a botched; un-science-and-art-like 
job the Creator had made of His Flora 
anyway, with nobody to show Him 
how" — is the embodied futility of pure 
academicism in education. The naive 
and often grotesque hero-worship of 
young boys crystallises in the prestige of 
Bert Gooderich; who could spit blood, 
and the transient and feeble popularity 
accruing to those envious ones who used 
cough mixture, "which only made a 
brown stain." Three examples will 
serve as well as a thousand to prove that 
Mr. McFee works everywhere under 
the insistent necessity of materialising 
the spiritual, giving the abstract a local 
habitation and a name. 

And the final proof is in his charac- 
ters — folk not composed but born, and 
kept consistent not by mere workman- 
ship but by the force of the life that is 
in them. We do not have to ask 
whether they "act in character," because 
they are characters and no't actors. We 
see them, as Mr. Chesterton would say, 
"in a perpetual summer of being them- 
selves." 

II 

To be an artist in this sense is to be 
a white light shining through a clear 
window into a curiosity shop. From 
the facets of a thousand gems there, 
many of them common and tawdry 
enough but now and again one rarely 
precious — from the surfaces of objects 



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174 Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes 



grotesque and beautiful, the light is re- 
fracted to us in all the colours of the 
spectrum. We actually see nothing but 
the curiosity shop. But we know that 
the window is there, as a condition of 
our seeing anything at all; and there 
are shadows to tell us from what angle 
the light enters. 

It is important to know through what 
window of purpose or philosophy Mr. 
McFee illuminates the various giants, 
gargoyles, and normal human beings of 
his curiosity shop — important, and fairly 
easy. His world, as we have seen, is a 
world of Little Brown Boxes, each Lit- 
tle Brown Box a shrine of Romance to 
some of us, to others a cage full of smoke 
and musty packing straw. And his 
view of humanity is briefly this, that the 
process of life is, for all of us, mostly a 
process of trying to get out of the Box 
in which we do not belong and into the 
one in which we do belong; and it is 
often very doubtful whether the one in 
which we do belong exists at all ; and if 
it does exist it is often not to be found, 
or it turns into something else as soon 
as we have found it. Most of us fail 
to arrive; we are the Failures, the ones 
who Sitick in the morass of obscure un- 
fulfilment between the start and the des- 
tination. These are the Casuals, 

frail craft upon the restless Sea 
Of Human Life . . . 
The feckless wastage of our cunning 

schemes. 

But at least we have dared the start. 
Failures we may be, but not so abjectly 
as those who kept what they had and 
never risked 

The mute soul's agony, the visions of the 
blind. 

Hanibal running away from his amour- 
ously tyrannical cousin, poisoning his 
lungs in the coal-dust of a freighter's 
bunkers, rousing himself again from a 
vegetative life to follow his dream and 
dying at last in the clutch of it, cuts a 
finer figure than any of his irreproach- 
able relatives the Browns, who "held 



betting to be one of the seven deadly 
sins" and, as the wildly adventurous 
climax of their prosperity, "worked up 
from one mantle to three on the gaso- 
lier." His sister Minnie, refusing the 
sanctioned relation with a loathsome lit- 
tle ninny and deliberately becoming the 
mistress of a great man, is at least more 
of a heroine than Mrs. Wilfley, a sam- 
ple, by the way, of what Mr. McFee 
really hates in womankind — Olga Bere- 
nice Wilfley, faddist, theosophist, hack 
writer of advertisements, author of The 
Licencees of Love, "an expert pilferer 
of ideas," and an expert also in **that 
cleverness which consists in knowing 
just how much people will stand." Bet- 
ter the Casuals, those who have no il- 
lusions about themselves and go out 
with sealed orders into "death's dateless 
night," than those others who refuse all 
the challenges of life and remain placidly 
at their anchorage. Mr. McFee has no 
contempt for success : witness his general 
approbation of Anthony Gilfillan, pro- 
moter, financier, and eventually man of 
the great world. But his special inter- 
est is in those who achieve what the 
world calls failure — that is, or may be, 
some sort of moral success without any 
of the tangible rewards. These arc his 
Casuals of the Sea. 

He is at bottom, then, an exponent of 
the tragic inequality between what the 
soul asks of life and what life furnishes. 
Because we dream more than we get and 
are constantly urged from within to 
dare the impracticable, it appears that 
there is an incurable maladjustment be- 
tween the individual and the nature of 
things. This is a philosophy of ironic 
detachment with which many books have 
made us familiar — notably those of Mr. 
Conrad, between whom and this author 
there are some striking temperamental 
resemblances. 

But it is to be noticed that this phi- 
losophy is either pessimistic or optimis- 
tic, hopeful or despairing, according to 
whether it puts the emphasis on the 
world's inferiority to the soul or on the 
soul's superiority to the world. Anyone 
can read the brute fact, that life is al- 



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Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes 



'7S 



ways withholding that which we never 
cease to demand. But the brute fact 
does not in itself tell us whether we shall 
draw despair from the evil limitations 
of the world, or hope from the splendid 
audacities of the soul. Mr. Grober, the 
fatalist, represents the pessimistic view 
when he says: "The torments of a Lost 
Soul are radiant bliss compared with the 
life of an Idealist in a world of Stark 
Reality!" But Grober is not McFee; 
he is not even Hannibal. 

As a matter of fact, Mr. McFee is so 
far from being a cynic that he sees in the 
soul itself a kind of self-justifying and 
self-sufficient life; the soul alone is a 
cosmos, and to dream greatly is in itself 
a sort of realisation. To this intense 
inward existence, the unfriendly pressure 
of outward circumstance is somehow, 
obscurely, an encouragement. The 
dream were less beautiful if there were 
nothing to make it preposterous, the 
flame less hot if there were no hostile 
airs to blow upon it. In the very fact 
that so many fair hopes persist in the 
face of doom, the significance of hope 
is multiplied. In short, there is no 
courage without peril — and to exult 
in the courage of man is a more hu- 
mane mood than to be doleful about 
the peril that surrounds and engulfs him. 
This vivid, courageous, and ardent life 
of the soul is the one indestructible 
thing. 

I should not like to be accused of 
reading this idea into Mr. McFee 's 
book: let us have it in words of his 
own: 

And then another vague idea grew up in 
his [Hannibal's] mind, an idea that perhaps 
a man's life was not a complete thing in 
itself, that perhaps it was but a bead on a 
string, a link on a chain, the visible part 
of an invisible continuity. In the light of 
that thought, death seemed a small and 
theatrical affair. Was that; then, a solution? 
It did somehow link up the confusing ac- 
cidents of existence. It did make the pain 
seem less sharp. The essential product of 
one's life was indestructible, and lived 
on. . . . 



Ill 

The Little Brown Box is, then, some- 
thing more than a tobacco shop on a 
mean street; the two generations of 
Gooderiches and Mr. Grober and the 
other Casuals are something more than 
illustrations of the part played by mere 
chance in human lives. And, finally, the 
Romance of the book and of my present 
title is something more than the quest of 
strange lands or strange loves, something 
more than even the mysterious chances 
that guide the voyaging of any isolated 
soul. I was to speak of Mr. McFee as 
friend : and I can do so best by the sug- 
gestion that the really thrilling Romance 
of the book is the Romance of his friend- 
ship with his Casuals — and with us 
other Casuals. It is in his discovery of 
them, in our discovery of them through 
him, and in the triangular community 
of solicitude thereby established, that the 
author brings off the finest of his para- 
doxes — a detached and somewhat ironic 
view of life converted, by the warmth of 
an unaffected human sympathy, into the 
pure spirit of comradeship. 

The superficial evidences of this pro- 
found moral sympathy are two in num- 
ber, and they may appear to contradict 
each other. The first is the author's 
extraordinarily accurate interpretation of 
the world's attitude toward conduct 
which it regards as wayward. Mrs. 
Gooderich, to be sure, judges her daugh- 
ter Minnie's waywardness with narrow 
inconsistency, forgetting that Minnie 
was born out of wedlock. But other 
people, with far less reason to be chari- 
table, have been unfailing in their 
charity to the mother in her forgotten 
youth, and are now indulgent toward 
the daughter. The common posture to- 
ward the derelict is one of mildly cyni- 
cal, sometimes helpfully humourous 
resignation, together with an obscure 
sense of fellowship. "A trouble is a 
trouble, and the general idea ... is to 
treat it as such, rather than to snatch 
the knotted cords from the hand of God 
and deal out murderous blows." By 
this one frank gesture, Mr. McFee 



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Casuals, Romance, and Little Brown Boxes 



sweeps away a deal of melodrama and 
trumpery heroics usually allotted in fic- 
tion, and usually not in life, to the 
"disgraced" girl. 

The other evidence of his sympathy 
is, curiously enough, what some readers 
will object to as the cynical flippancy of 
his style. It seems to me that the accent 
is sometimes, not often, unduly raucous; 
but the explanation is very simple. 
Partly, Mr. McFee resorts to hardness 
of manner because he distrusts his own 
softness of heart; the guard against 
sentimentalism must not be let down. 
And partly, he tells us the whole 
unflinching truth about human base- 
ness because he wants to glorify the 
human nobility that can persist in 
spite of it. To belittle sin is to dis- 
count virtue; and you will not prove 
that idealism is strong by showing that 
it IS easy. 

It is, then, Mr. McFee's irony that 
views the greater part of mankind as 
Casuals of the Sea. But it is as cer- 
tainly his friendship that puts the Cas- 



uals and the author and his readers to- 
gether into the same boat. This moral 
identification of the author with his ma- 
terial and with his readers — a thing 
quite distinct from an author's inartis- 
tic intrusion of his own personality — ^is 
a remarkable fulfilment of the saying 
that "Art must make friends with Need, 
lest it perish." The book finds some 
human creatures in their need, which is 
where all human creatures are most 
akiiT; and then the author takes his re- 
ward, and gives us ours, in his and our 
sense of kinship with them. It is not 
preaching or canting, it is not officious 
or interfering: it is not even visibly 
there. It is something effected off the 
stage altogether, in the audience, and it 
leaves the whole drama technically as 
objective as ever. But it is an effect 
which the author could scarcely have 
wrought without the most profound and 
definite intention. It is one chapter of 
the Romance of the Future — ^the Ro- 
mance of a world made one in self- 
knowledge and in need. 



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GERMANY AS A FRANKENSTEIN 



BY FLORENCE FINCH KELLY 



Whether or not outraged right visits 
retribution upon the individual it surely 
does upon those large and continuing 
groups of individuals that we call na- 
tions. The conviction does not necessi- 
tate belief in a moral order governing 
the universe, but can be the result of in- 
ductive reasoning alone. It is a satis- 
factory belief to hold in the present 
crisis of world aifairs because it offers 
a reasonable explanation of the great 
war. It answers that question "Why 
must it be?" which still gnaws at the 
heart of every thinking and feeling per- 
son after he has put in days upon days 
on vari-coloured books of diplomacy, 
volumes of history, piled up discussions 
of economic rivalries, political aims, psy- 
chological characters and all the rest of 
the vast literature that has already gath- 
ered around the vexed question of who 
caused the war. No matter how clear 
may be the blame, in whole or in part, 
in one or several quarters, back of the 
last argument and the final conclusion 
still looms the unsatisfied demand for 
some sort of moral explanation, some- 
thing that will show that it proceeds 
from causes commensurate with the im- 
mensity of its sabotage^ causes that vin- 
dicate themselves to man's reason and 
seem to be within his possible control 
in the future. For many people, I am 
sure, the need to find such an explana- 
tion is imperative if they wish to pre- 
serve an atom of faith in the moral gov- 
ernment of the universe. 

For myself, I have found that ex- 
planation in the belief that conduct pre- 
pares its own reward. If nations wor- 
ship false gods, deny justice, throw their 
influence against that which is eternally 
right, they are piling up a score against 
themselves which presently they will 
have to pay. Practically all the nations 
of the world had been conniving at 



wrong doing, turning away from the 
demands of right and justice, worship- 
ping false gods. And now they are hav- 
ing to meet the consequences of their 
failure to live up to the best they knew. 
In the September Bookman I spoke of 
Germany as one of the Frankensteins 
of civilisation. If we will look back 
along the course of history we will see 
many Frankensteins with which civilisa- 
tion has had to dispute world way, after 
long fostering jof them and delight in 
them. We once had one of our own in 
the institution of slavery. From its be- 
ginning the whole nation tolerated 
human bondage. Because it seemed to 
bring material prosperity, added to the 
comforts and the luxuries of those who 
held the upper hand, increased the gen- 
eral store of gold, through years and 
years our forefathers smiled upon slav- 
ery, encouraged it, excused it, made con- 
cessions to it, were blind to its mon- 
strosity, allowed it to grow and grow 
until at last it reached such size and 
strength that it determined upon domi- 
nation. The whole country was respon- 
sible for slavery, the whole country had 
sinned alike in the creation and the fos- 
tering of that Frankenstein, and the 
whole country had to pay for its wrong- 
doing with bloody stripes. 

Napoleon, greatest of criminals, was 
another Frankenstein for whom the na- 
tions had to pay. At his advent they 
welcomed him for his service, they 
praised and flattered him, they let him 
have his way. And as he went on, grow- 
ing more and more powerful, they with- 
held their hands, they aided him when 
they could gain advantage, they con- 
nived and compromised, and presently 
they discovered he had grown so great 
he was about to eat them all. And all 
Europe had to pay with slaughter im- 
measurable and vast devastation because 



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Germany as a Frankenstein 



It had winked at injustice, struck hands 
with wrong, worshipped success. 

Behind Napoleon lay the wreckage of 
another battle with a Frankenstein, the 
old aristocratic regime in France that 
had grown huge and monstrous on the 
life blood of the nation that tolerated 
it. The stench of its wickedness rose 
to heaven as it fattened upon the human 
rights it incessantly outraged. But the 
nation had to pay mercilessly for the 
lives it had crushed, the rights it had 
violated, the wrongs it had visited upon 
the helpless. It was as monstrous a 
Frankenstein as any that civilisation has 
ever pampered and fostered into suprem- 
acy, but it went down in the blood 
and fury of the Revolution. So, finally, 
does every one go down. 

For man's slow progress upward 
through the centuries has been one fierce 
and desperate struggle after another 
with some fetish, economic, social, politi- 
cal, religious, that he has created, fed 
upon crimes and follies, fattened upon 
wrong-doing and injustice, until he has 
seen how loathsome it is. Then he has 
given battle to his own creation and 
mounted to higher levels over its dead 
body. 

Germany and the conditions and 
ideals of modern civilisation which had 
made it possible for the German Em- 
pire to set forth upon world conquest 
can be seen now to stand out as the 
Frankenstein of the twentieth century. 
All the rest of the world has helped to 
feed and foster the monster, has joined 
in its iniquities or tacitly condoned 
them, has admired and commended and 
has been eager to share in whatever bene- 
fits could be won from the creature's 
growth. So now all the world is paying 
the penalty for its lack of vision, suf- 
fering for its sins of omission and com- 
mission. 

At the bottom of the making of this 
Frankenstein was the worship of ma- 
terial success and the uncurbed longing 
for wealth and power, individual or na- 
tional or both, which have dominated 
men and nations. We here in America 
have sinned grievously in that respect. 



in our own actions and in our moral esti- 
mates of others. Therefore must we 
repent in salt and bloody tears, — ^and 
resolve that we will not so sin again. 

All the world knows now and all the 
world is shocked and horrified by the 
monstrously immoral character of the 
principles upon which Germany guides 
her national conduct. All the world 
knows and is horrified by the shame- 
lessly immoral attitude of the German 
government toward its own people. All 
the world knows and despises the 
cruelty, deception, megalomania, treach- 
ery, lying, intrigue, barbarity, injustice 
that the German nation has been prac- 
tising and defending and glorying in. 
But all these things were either true in 
fact before the war or were implied and 
evident in the spirit and the principles, 
the ideals and the purposes in which the 
whole German nation was being trained. 
And yet all the world, which now scorns 
and loathes, until three years ago won- 
dered, admired and applauded. Why? 
Because Germany was succeeding, was 
making wonderful strides in material 
wealth and prosperity, was piling up 
riches — mostly in corporate hands — and 
was gaining as a nation immense eco- 
nomic and political power. 

It is no more than five or six years 
since one of the most prominent univer- 
sity presidents in the United States, head 
of one of the largest and most impor- 
tant of our educational institutions, ex- 
pressed in columns and columns of print 
the warmest admiration for the German 
Kaiser, praised him unstintedly as the 
possessor of great and noble qualities 
and lauded him as the main factor in 
world peace and the chief hope of the 
world for continued peace. Now he 
looks at Emperor William with the same 
amazed and horrified eyes as do the rest 
of us. He is typical of thousands upon 
thousands of others in our own and other 
lands. But Emperor William is ex- 
actly the same man, exactly the same 
ruler, holds just the same ideals and 
purposes, is guided by the same prin- 
ciples now as then. • 

Blind admiration did not stop at the 



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Germany as a Frankenstein 



179 



head of the German Empire. We heard 
endless praise of German laws for the 
protection of German workmen, and 
that sincerest flattery which expresses it- 
self in imitation was already at work. 
Ex-Ambassador Gerard in his book, My 
Four Years in Germany, shows how 
those laws work to make the labourer 
practically a serf to his employer and 
how, combined with other conditions, 
they result in bitter poverty and help- 
lessness. We read many admiring ac- 
counts of German municipal administra- 
tion and now we are learning that it is 
only part of a system that makes of the 
German citizen a docile sheep to be 
herded where and how the government 
wants him. For the last quarter cen- 
tury or more we have heard the German 
educational system extolled to the skies ; 
all the world has resounded with admi- 
ration of German scholarship; from the 
ends of the earth streams of students 
have poured into the German univer- 
sities; German progress in science and 
German methods in extending its prac- 
tical application have won universal 
praise. Now, American educators are 
deploring the deadening effects of Ger- 
man methods and wondering why they 
did not discern long ago the greater vi- 
tality and fruitfulness inherent in the 
French; German scholarship is seen to 
have resulted quite frequently in dust 
heaps of small value; in America at 
least the painful discovery has been 
made that German universities could 
and did, in some subtle way, poison the 
roots of patriotism; German science is 
known to have been mainly pilferings 
from elsewhere applied to German in- 
dustrial enterprises and developed into 
wealth for Germany. German effi- 
ciency, German adaptability, German 
enterprise, German success in industry, 
commeice, and extension of influence 
and power, were lauded ceaselessly and 
held up as models. Now, in the eyes 
of the world they have become the 
shame of the nation for which they 
formerly won so much admiration be- 
cause the political intrigue and treach- 
ery with which they were always 



coupled has outraged all sense of square 
dealing. 

All these things would have been as 
evident before the war if those who ad- 
mired and praised so easily had used the 
same intelligence they do now, if they 
had looked below the surface of ma- 
terial success, if they had searched even 
a little for animating purposes and con- 
trolling principles. As I showed in a 
previous article in The Bookman, out 
of her own mouth Germany has spoken 
her condemnation. For the utterances 
of her ruling class, her public men, her 
teachers, her philosophers, her preachers, 
all those who mould and guide and 
voice the ideals and spirit of a nation, 
have proved her belief as a nation, as a 
people, that there is no right but might; 
that any means is justified that wins 
success, no matter how evil may be the 
wished-for end; that war is a glorious 
activity to be desired for its own sake; 
that Germany must and will grow 
greater and more powerful until she con- 
quers the world, and that it is the duty, 
the pleasure and the pride of every Ger- 
man man, woman or child to do every- 
thing possible toward that end. 

All this megalomania, lust of wealth 
and power and lack of moral sense — 
unfailing characteristics of every Frank- 
enstein the world has ever struggled 
with — ^were easily discoverable, it is now 
evident, in the pre-war Germany. Why 
were they not pointed out and held up 
to the execration they deserved and are 
now getting? Here and there a publi- 
cist or public man, one or two in Eng- 
land, one or two in France, none at all 
in America, spoke some small measure of 
the truth. But none of these, so far as 
I have read their books, saw much except 
political danger for his own country or 
suggested any means of meeting the 
menace, except those of increased arma- 
ments and more astute diplomacy. And 
few have listened even to their warn- 
ings, or believed that any danger threat- 
ened. The gasping amazement with 
which all the world witnessed the out- 
break of the war proves how utterly 
blind it had been. 



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Germany as a Frankenstein 



Why had it been so blind when Ger- 
many had been for years so openly pro- 
claiming her purpose, her malevolent 
spirit, her lack of moral sense? Was it 
not because of the glamour of German 
success in the gaining of wealth and 
power? Was it not because all the 
world, with her, was worshipping the 
golden calf? Was it not because most 
of the world still believed in war that 
the whole of the world neglected to take 
any really efficient measures to prevent 
such a cataclysm as has befallen? Was 
it not because all the world was too in- 
different, too doubtful^ too immoral to 
demand the rule of justice and right 
that might has dared to make this at- 
tempt to gain universal power? 

The nations, the individuals that 
compose them, you and I, we have all 
won the just reward of our blind- 
ness, our complacency, our unwilling- 
ness to condemn injustice and wrong, 
our inability to see them for what 
they are, our faith in material power, 
our admiration for material success. 
We have all helped to foster a colossal 
Frankenstein, we have all worshipped 
at its feet, and now we are paying the 
penalty. 



It is not in Germany alone that this 
twentieth-century Frankenstein must be 
fought. There is its most congenial 
home, there it found the best environ- 
ment and there it has reached a de- 
velopment that dwarfs its manifesta- 
tions in other countries. That is the 
one that must first be overcome, because 
it has challenged civilisation to the com- 
bat. But afterward, if the other na- 
tions do not take timely warning and 
attend each to its own Frankenstein, 
recognise it for the evil thing it is and 
for the menace it may become, and stop 
its growth or in some way make it harm- 
less, disaster will result. 

Humanity is forever nourishing some 
Frankenstein in its bosom and presently 
paying for its infatuation with the cost- 
liest of prices. But the fact that stands 
out most brightly, — ^that is full of hope 
and promise, — is not that humanity does 
nourish so base a creature upon follies 
and crimes and wrongs, but that when 
the Caliban gets large enough and foul 
enough humanity does recognise it for 
what it is and is always willing to pay 
the cost of getting rid of it rather than 
submit to it — and that humanity is al- 
ways, finally, the one that wins. 



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In a little book, The Menace of 
Peace, Mr. George D. Herron well 
points out the moral 
Wc Must that adorns the tale of 

Face It German social philoso- 

phy. If the world ac- 
cepts a peace to-day based on the status 
quo ante, such as His Holiness pro- 
posed, it would mean the virtual tri- 
umph of the German idea with the Ger- 
man domination of Europe in another 
ten- or surely twenty years and the re- 
establishment of just those nice balances 
of jealous powers whose slightest de- 
rangement could again precipitate war. 
The German conception of society, as 
Dr. Vernon Kellog so ably described in 
the August Atlantic Monthly, is mech- 
anistic with its base on the rigid oper- 
ation of the biologic law of natural se- 
lection. Germany believes that she is a 
race of super-men, that in the struggle 
for existence her type of social organisa- 
tion is both destined by God and of 
course determined by the law of selec- 
tion to survive. For the welfare of hu- 
manity, then, Germany has a duty to 
impose her kultur on the race and so to 
lead the world on to heights of achieve- 
ment inextricably bound up in the Di- 
vine Plan as developed by a German 
civilisation. Should Germany fail, ^'kul- 
tured" Germans would not want to live 
in a world so topsy-turvy — a world in 
which the unfit not only survive but ac- 
tually defeat the fit, the chosen of God. 
So the Germans infuse something of the 
Old Testament spirit into their actions : 
we hear them talk of the Chosen People, 
the Will of the God (of Germany), the 
Wrath of the Almighty. From this be- 
lief and this devotion, their dauntless 
sacrifices arise, their fearlessness of death 
for the Fatherland and for the Em- 
peror: they would die rather than sur- 
vive a defeated Germany. 



Can such a people be democratised? 
President Wilson thinks so, we Ameri- 
. - cans hope so, a little 

m^-1-^^"*^- -L group of international- 
Military Disaster?^ diinkers in the 
Necessary Reichstag apparently 

intends so. But a calm consideration of 
the temper of the Germans does not 
encourage the hope. Such a violent 
change in the orientation of German 
character probably will need a great ca- 
tastrophe for its accomplishment — a great 
military disaster. Such has been the his- 
tory of both nations and individuals; 
great developing changes are accom- 
plished by some sort of violence, to up- 
root a time-worn idea requires the 
agency of a revolution. And in the case 
of the Germans, this revolution, this ca- 
tastrophe, is being quickly and satisfac- 
torily arranged for. The mobilisation of 
our National Guard and the first instal- 
ment of the National Army means, if she 
can but read the writing on the wall, 
the downfall of Germany's military 
power. This is the task to which we 
must dedicate ourselves, our efforts, our 
property; and it is in the temper of 
America that, having undertaken the 
task of policing the world, we shall "sec 
the job through" and pay again in this 
generation the price of blood and suffer- 
ing for the purchase of that that is 
dearer than either — our own self-respect. 



President Wilson's renunciations in 
his reply to the Pope are magnificent: 

"no restitutions meant 
The President to cripple some nations 
to the Pope and benefit others," "no 

reprisal upon the Ger- 
man people," "wrongs ought to be re- 
paired, but not at the expense of the 
sovereignty of any people," and especially 
the dictum against an economic war after 



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the war. Those declarations will work 
in two ways. First they have vastly 
strengthened the Allies' ideals and pur- 
poses, they have aroused enthusiastic 
sympathy in every people of Europe that 
is opposed to Germany, and they are 
sure to sustain and strengthen the failing 
military power of Russia. Secondly, 
nothing could do more than such a state- 
ment to strengthen the hands of the radi- 
cals in Germany. Germany is still 
fighting largely because she believes that 
any weakness will mean the enslavement 
of the Fatherland, the starvation of her 
people through an economic war. With 
this statement of war purposes, some ele- 
ment in Germany must question the 
more pertinently the faith of her leaders. 
Whether President Wilson's reply will 
sufficiently weaken German militarism 
to hasten her military disaster is ques- 
tionable, but it surely will strengthen 
allied determination toward this result. 



But there is still another aspect to the 
President's words that is infinitely more 
significant. We are be- 
Our Chance to ginning to assume in 
Make a World our thinking the over- 
throw of Germany; so 
that the greatest, most tremendous 
thought before the world to-day is: 
when this war is over, what sort of a 
world shall we make for ourselves to live 
in ? A world of balanced jealousies and 
feverish armament? God forbid. It 
must be a world without crippled na- 
tions, without smouldering revenges, 
without racial wrongs, as President Wil- 
son has asserted before the whole world. 
To accomplish this we believe in: 
I. General disarmament. 2. A world-par- 
liament to enunciate the principles of in- 
ternational comity, to draft the laws of 
international relations. 3. An interna- 
tional executive to apply international 
law. 4. An international police force 
under the orders of the international 
executive. This in bare outline seems 
the most 'practical machinery for perpet- 
uating world-peace. In its essence it 



means simply an extension of our law 
orbit : we obey a city's police regulations 
unhesitatingly because we believe that, 
if not the best, they represent the best 
obtainable effort to harmonise neigh- 
bourly relations; we obey national laws 
because we believe in the community of 
ideals and purposes that makes a nation, 
because we are patriots. We can as 
easily obey international laws drawn up 
by the most intelligent, skilled represen- 
tatives of each human group — ^men ac- 
tuated by the welfare of the whole world 
— because we can now, joined by the 
common feelings of human loss and the 
common purposes of achievement, see 
that the whole world is but a human 
family whose interests are fundamentally 
identical: because, in short, we are all 
joined in the great adventure of making 
the human spirit at home in its environ- 
ment — of making the world a good 
place to live in. General disarmament, 
a world-parliament, an international 
executive with an international police 
force — let us strive for this programme, 
modified and improved very probably, 
but certainly a thought, an effort in the 
right direction. 



This ideal of internationalism, the 
ideal of an organic world in which the 

nations shall emulate 
Patriotism and each other in service to 
Brotherhood the common human 

brotherhood, implies an 
essential criticism of the orthodox "pa- 
triotism" that is now, in the crisis of 
war, asserting itself in every belligerent 
country — the type of patriotism that im- 
pulsively cheers the might and glory of 
the state as contrasted with inferior peo- 
ples, the patriotism that carried the bar- 
barism of savages throughout Belgium 
but regards every retaliation as the brut- 
ishness of "foreign devils." Such a pa- 
triotism harks back to the earliest human 
psychology; it was the group patriotism, 
or group consciousness, that determined 
survival and through the process of se- 
lection has become part and parcel of 



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183 



our own mental fibre. A discussion of 
this value in our social life and of the 
problem that it presents is made in this 
issue by Professor Cooley, of the depart- 
ment of philosophy of Columbia Uni- 
versity. Professor Cooley maintains 
that this patriotism must be trained, not 
extirpated, that it must be "converted 
from a selfish group interest into a ra- 
tional, or moral, group interest," that 
we must recognise the truth that "the 
supreme unit is the race and not the 
tribe, mankind and not any fraction of 
it." "The problem of the redemption 
of patriotism," he continues, "is simply 
part of the problem of the moralisation 
of society." Before the war the ideas of 
internationalism were used by social 
agitators largely in the attempt to con- 
solidate the interests of their class 
throughout the different nations: inter- 
nationalism was a propaganda idea used 
to divide society laterally into class an- 
tagonisms. Now under the fusion of 
war's intense struggle we can see that 
the internationalism that means a com- 
mon pooling of human interests is the 
only solution of the problem of war and 

peace. 

• • • 

Germany's peace terms are being fore- 
casted in Washington at the time of our 
going to press. These 
Germansr's terms which Germany 

Terms is formulating in reply 

to the Pope's plea are 
said to include the following: 

Restoration of Belgium and North- 
em France, to be paid for out of the 
sale of Germany's colonies to Great 
Britain. 

Alsace and Lorraine to be independent 
states. 

Trieste to be a "free port." 

Serbia and Rumania to be restored, 
and Serbia to have a port on the Adri- 
atic. 

The Balkan question and the status 
of Turkey to be subjects for negotia- 
tion. 

Disarmament and international po- 
lice. 

Freedom of the seas, with Great 



Britain in control of the English Chan- 
nel until the projected tunnel is built 
between Dover and Calais. 

There are many points for dispute in 
such proposals : England would undoubt- 
edly demur at paying for colonies she 
has already conquered, France would 
probably refuse anything but the abso- 
lute annexation of Alsace-Lorraine, 
Italy means to have Trieste, and it 
hardly seems likely that Turkey would 
be a willing partner to her Allies' oflFer 
to settle her fate in conference with her 
enemies. But all these considerations 
probably matter very little — the note 
will not be taken seriously because the 
world is now so thoroughly aroused to 
the German menace that a German 
military disaster, due either to the 
strength of her opponents or to the de- 
fection of her people, is necessary before 
the world can be assured of Germany's 
peaceful acquiescence to a place in the 
family of nations. What is of definite 
interest in the peace terms, however, is 
the reported suggestion of the German 
Government for disarmament and an in- 
ternational police. Although the terms 
as a whole will by no means end the 
war, these two proposals will give a 
great impetus to the only practical solu- 
tion of the war menace, the best eflFort 
to establish a permanent peace ; they will 
help to publicise both in Germany and 
in the Entente countries the ideas of dis- 
armament and international police, with 
their necessary extension into a world 

parliament. 

• • • 

Disarmament by Germany, however, 
cannot be accepted on her mere promise 

in her present frame of 
A German mind. The disclosure 

Disarmament of the German envoy's 

notes from Buenos 
Aires to Berlin, via the Swedish legation 
and Stockholm, show German diplomacy 
even more thoroughly outlawed, further 
removed from the standards of inter- 
course of civilised nations, than even 
when Zimmerman sent out his infa- 
mous Mexico- Japanese plot note. A 
promise by the present German Govern- 



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ment, unsupported by the strongest de- 
mands of the German people, to carry 
out a thorough German disarmament 
would hardly be acceptable to the na- 
tions whose trust the German Govern- 
ment has outraged, whose peoples the 
Germans have scientifically ravaged and 
despoiled. We must win on the field — 
and we must win again in the courts of 
humanity that shall determine the kind 
of world we shall live in after this war, 
a world to be based on community inter- 
est and not on either paper claims or 
''national aspirations." 



We bear no grudge against Mr. 
Edward Garnett for comparing at in- 
tervals large blocks of 
Gamett's contemporaneous Eng- 

Judgment lish and American lit- 

erature to the disad- 
vantage of the latter. Very likely if we 
went into this wholesale business of lit- 
erary comparison, we should render the 
same decision. But the reasons assigned 
by Mr. Garnett for the inferiority of 
American authors seem sometimes a lit- 
tle dubious. This, for example, is how 
he explains his preference for the rank 
and file^ of present-day English poets 
over their American contemporaries: In 
England, he says, "the literary soil has 
been fructified by the germs of poetic 
assodation since the days of Chaucer." 
That IS the great advantage, he thinks, 
that the native English poet has over 
the native American; and in reading 
American verse, even very good verse, 
he is struck by the "thinness of the lit- 
erary humus." Now the "literary soil," 
though an agricultural metaphor in good 
standing, is of very little use to us as an 
explanation. An American poet can get 
himself planted in any literary soil he 
chooses. He can send his roots down 
through the thickest sort of humus, 
down through all the fructifying poetic 
germs of Chaucer's day, and even be- 
yond them. Indeed he has often dune 
so, sometimes to advantage, and some- 
times not; for the truth must be told 
that nine times out of ten, it docs not 



depend on the humus or the germs, but 
on the sort of poet that is therein planted. 



Small blame to Mr. Garnett, how- 
ever, if his explanations do not always 
explain. His method 
Of Critical is one that might make 

Methods any man at times in- 

articulate. One con- 
ceives of Mr. Garnett as having two 
large bins on his premises, one for Eng- 
lish literature as fast as it appears, and 
the other for American. As soon as the 
bins fill up, he reviews them both in a 
single article for some magazine. In 
writing this article, he is often obliged 
to carry in his head at the same time at 
least thirty contemporary English nov- 
elists and an equal number of Americans, 
many of them so very bad that they 
would be likely to damage the head that 
carried them. And not only does he 
never get them mixed up, but he can 
make quite extraordinary distinctions be- 
tween them. Of two novelists he will 
often explain just why one is the more 
remarkable when neither of them seems 
remarkable at all; and of three poets 
racing, one would suppose with all their 
might, toward oblivion, he can often pick 
out with an appearance of certainty the 
one that will get there first. We do 
not deny that he is often right, or that 
he performs his task with efficiency. Yet 
as a critical method it does not seem 
like selecting the fruit in the literary 
garden (if we may continue that striking 
agricultural metaphor) ; it seems more 
like mowing the lawn. Any man who 
makes a practice, for example, of dis- 
patching in a few days every six months 
the entire crop of light literature that 
has emerged in the interval, is apt to 
blunt the edge of his literary distinc- 
tions. It is generally impossible to be a 
sound critic and a cumulative book in- 
dex at the same time. Not that Mr. 
Garnett goes quite so far as that, but his 
industry certainly does outrun at times 
the capacity of his literary judgment. 
Take, for example, his last review of a 
score or so of poets in the Atlantic 



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Monthly, in which Mr. Frost's Moun- 
tain Interval suggests to him only the 
following reflection: "It occurs to one 
that possibly ... Mr. Frost has evolved 
a new theory of verse. . . . Does he 
hold that one subject is as desirable, one 
word as beautiful, as another? But 
Mountain Interval shows that they are 
not." This seems decidedly obtuse, 
especially when you sec with what en- 
thusiasm he can hail almost any medi-« 
ocrity. But it docs not really prove that 
he has bad taste. It merely proves that 
he has blunted it by too much rapid 
tasting. It might happen to any one 
who set out, very likely against his real 
inclination^ to dispose of a score or two 
of recent poets in a bunch. 



A truly Wellsian pastime is the popu- 
larisation of God. In Mr. Britling 
Sees It Through the 
A Wellsian hero, one who has al- 

Pastime ways intellectualised his 

problems, is brought 
face to face with a great emotion, and 
through its agency, in his own soul, he 
finds his God. In God the Invisible 
King Mr. Wells gave us a series of es- 
says, first on the heresies that conven- 
tion and formalism had encrusted about 
the idea of God, and then on the true 
nature of the God that is Captain and 
King of the human adventure. In still 
a third book this year, published this 
month, Wells continues the theme of the 
God of traditional formalism versus the 
God of our common humanity. It is a 
novel, this third book, called The Soul 
of a Bishop, and in it the content of The 
Invisible King ?s worked out in the life 
of an Anglican bishop who, like Mr. 
Britling, discovered his God. His 
Grace, the Bishop, is first disgruntled 
and disturbed in his complacent cosmol- 
ogy by the agitation of his radical la- 
bouring flock who are on the point of a 
class war. Then comes the Great War 
and visions to the soul of the Bishop, 
and he begins to view the Church and 
the Priestly Order in a new light. It 
is a great soul;Struggle that he goes 



through with, but he achieves finally an 
entirely new orientation. 

• • • 

The first section of The Soul of a 
Bishop is doubtless of much more inter- 
est in England than in 
A Disappointing America. With us our 
God clergy arc more respon- 

sive to social changes, 
more ready for self-criticism, more ob- 
jective in their tenets of theology. In 
fact a sane, healthy questioning has be- 
come so characteristic of our leading 
theological schools that many times the 
old line, rigid, orthodox trustees have 
made scandals out of the "liberalism" 
that seems to them to be carrying their 
churches to perdition. In England, 
however, the Established Church is one 
of the main pillars of the accepted order 
of society, and so it was quite proper 
that in his programme Mr. Wells should 
have allotted so much space and effort to 
breaking through its defences. But to 
us this part of the book makes rather 
stupid reading — too we have had The 
Inside of the Cup and thinking people 
are now about over that stage of won- 
der at what is the matter with the 
churches: they know the matter is there 
and many of the clergy do, too, and we 
know it will work out all right. It is 
in the constructive part of Mr. Wells*s 
book that our chief interest lies — and it 
is just in this part that we find our chief 
disappointment. Wells's God is the 
most dissatisfying thing he has ever 
done. We were not converted; we did 
not even feel like trying a prayer. Mr. 
Wells himself is a demi-god among in- 
tellects; man's God is the object of an 
emotional craving: the two entities. 
Wells and God, are atomically antago- 
nistic. 

• • • 

Up to last month. New York had 
known three Carmens worthy the name 

— Minnie H a u c k , 
A New Calve and Bresler-Gia- 

Carmen noli. Impresario Gallo 

— ^he of the visiting San 
Carlo Opera Company — ^has added a 
fourth. Ester Ferrabini. This new- 



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comer has youth and beauty — a very 
lithe youth and a devilish beauty — ^the 
grace of a panther and the seductive 
clamour of Shaw's superman: no male 
escapes her from the little fat chorus- 
man who happens to be nearest her en- 
veloping arm to the tall Captain of the 
Guard. The very exclusiveness of Jose 
draws her to him as by a magnet. Hers 
are no parlour manners — she wants him 
and she proceeds to get him — be her wiles ( 
those of a courtesan or a society expert, 
she cares not. She knows her Merrimee 
better than did Calve — or, at least, she 
expresses a keener appreciation of the 
one-at-a-time attack. Her dismissal of 
the Captain, once she has a prospect of 
lassoing Jose, is as complete as her sev- 
erance of all relations with the passe 
Jose after her submission to the torea- 
dor. The acting of this new Carmen 
has been here dilated upon to the ex- 
clusion of her singing. As a matter of 
fact, the lady is herself authority for the 
statement that her voice is too high for 
the music and that in her interpretation 
of the part she surrenders the possibilities 
of musical excellence to the more — to her 
— telling possibilities of the dramatic sit- 
uation. None of her predecessors has 
been more alive to the intensity of the 
drama as such — albeit each one of the 
three had a lower range of voice and, for 
this reason, a better quality for dramatic 
expression. But this fact seems to 
bother Madame Ferrabini not in the 
slightest. She sings the music well al- 
ways — at times, gloriously. But it is 
ever the presence of the person she is 
representing. Carmen, that one sees and 
feels. In the dance, for example, it is 
a panting, loving tigress that is singing 
the music as an accompaniment to the 
sharp clicking of the castanets and the 
swift movements of her rhythmic feet; 
in the card scene you hear more of a 
croon and a series of half-muttered oaths 
than the regulation vocal performance of 
an aria. But be it- remembered that her 
voice is never inadequate. It is a young, 
vibrant voice — a caressing voice — a voice 
full of warmth and passion; and when 
the lady asserts that it is too high for the 



music of Carmen, you smile — and know 

better. 

• • • 

A breezy "casual comment" from our 
neighbour, The Dial, seems to cover the 

case adequately: 
Mr. Hearst ^^ , - . . 

^ The tentacles of Mr. 

XT x«7 u Hearst have reached out 

New Worlds ^ , ... 

and nave gathered in an- 
other representative periodical. The Inter- 
national Magazine Company, which has al- 
ready appropriated the Cosmopolitan and 
Harper's Bazar, is now reported as having 
closed in on Puck, Having conquered the 
library table and the boudoir, Mr. Hearst is 
now to conquer the barber shop. The li- 
brary table, thanks to him, is not what it 
once was, nor is the boudoir; so why should 
one expect the barber shop to remain un- 
changed? The Hearstian breeze wafts it- 
self over flowery banks stealing and giving 
odours, and often making two odours, or 
two dozen — though of a pungent sort not 
hitherto known or relished — grow where but 
one grew before. The man who is waiting 
two or three minutes for the next vacant 
chair was well worth going after. He is 
many, and in those two or three minutes he 
may be able, if taken decisively in hand (as 
he doubtless will be), to come to important 
determinations in matters of statesmanship 
and of sociology. The saloon as a political 
molecule threatens to pass: welcome the 
newer and better (or different) political 
molecule, the tonsorial parlour. 

• • • 

An interesting experiment In the lit- 
erary world is the publication of a book 

entitled The Grim 
"The Grim Thirteen. It is made 

Thirteen" up of thirteen short 

stories that because of 
unconventionality of treatment, and not 
because of lack of merit, were rejected 
by leading fiction periodicals. In an in- 
troduction Mr. Edward J. O'Brien, a 
short-story critic and the editor of the 
yearly Best Short Stories volume, re- 
counts the occasion of The Grim Thir- 
teen and the reasons for the experiment. 
It all grew out of a discussion as to 
whether, if Poe were living to-day, the 
American magazines would publish his 



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stories. The general opinion of the 
gathering, story writers themselves, was 
that they would not. There is a taboo, 
it was maintained, against grim or grue- 
some stories in editorial circles, Ameri- 
can editors believing that the public de- 
mand the happy ending. "And then the 
inspiration came," writes Mr. O'Brien, 
"why not try to find thirteen hoodooed 
masterpieces by thirteen unlucky masters, 
and throw them upon the mercies of the 
public for a vote? No sooner suggested 
than done. ... So here they are." 

• • • 

The first condition of selection was 
a repeated rejection by American maga- 
zines. With that con- 
Thc Short Story dition met, the further 
in America selection was based on 

literary excellence. Mr. 
O'Brien points out that the vogue of 
the short story has spread so widely as 
to be practically coextensive with the 
population of the country. The com- 
mercial rewards to successful short-story 
writers are of course very great and the 
more this is true the greater becomes the 
influence of those rewards upon the mat- 
ter and manner of the American short 
story. Nevertheless, Mr. O'Brien is of 
the opinion that the short story is "the 
characteristic contribution of America 
to literature," and for that reason "it 
behooves every American writer tc 
search deeply in his heart for the as- 
surance that his creative work is the sin- 
cere and influenced expression of what 
he most desires to say." "It is espe- 
cially necessary," he continues, "that he 
should not permit himself to compromise 
his standards by yielding to the pressure 
of high commercial rewards, when those 
rewards imply a moulding influence up- 
on his literary work." 

• • • 

The thirteen short stories in The 
Grim Thirteen are examples of sincere 

imagination, unham- 
Unhampered. pered by editorial con- 
Imagination siderations. They went 

their appointed way to 
the magazines and were found "unavail- 



able," showing that these thirteen 
writers at least have found that some of 
their finest imaginative work could not 
achieve publication without modifica- 
tion. For this reason Mr. O'Brien is 
of the opinion that "much fine and sin- 
cere work is lost every year to America 
by reason of these restrictions." As an 
illustration Mr. O'Brien picks out of 
the "thirteen" group "The Abigail 
Sheriff Memorial," by Vincent O'SuUi- 
van. This story, he says, challenges the 
intellect and "intellectual pleasure is not 
the chief end sought in the American 
short story of the present day." 



One of the 
"Thirteen" 



The story of "The Abigail Sheriff Me- 
morial" opens in New York City with 
the experiences and 
feelings of a down-and- 
out artist who has sold 
his soul to the gambling devil. You get 
quite excited about him and interested 
in his fate. What ghastly crime is hz 
about to commit, what strange, un- 
earthly destiny is in store for this night 
hawk, this human flotsam obsessed with 
a "flawless system" to beat the game? 
And there is his friend Jennie — a model, 
her shoulders had been painted by some- 
body — don't forget Jennie. Then the 
scene shifts to a New England back- 
water town and to David Sheriff, a 
plump-faced fool. It is still all well 
with us: David must lead a double life, 
or something at any rate is going to 
happen to him. Let us wait patiently. 
Then comes Miriam, wife to David. 
(Miriam's sister, Abigail, had been Da- 
vid's first wife.) Ah, here it is at last: 
the hidden mystery, the tragic masque 
of crime, the buried skeleton! The plot 
thickens, with Miriam to the surface — 
maybe Jennie is a love child, cast out to 
a life of crimson; or maybe it is the ar- 
tist who is her "false step"; or maybe 
she has a guilty knowledge of David's 
hidden trespasses; or maybe the artist 
just has to kill David to avenge a great 
dishonour. Surely there are possibilities 
here. At last (soft!), the denouement: 
Miriam killed her sister to get her hus- 



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band for herself! That is the skeleton, 
that the crime, the hidden mystery. 
And was it for this that all this struc- 
ture was evolved? What of David, 
what of Jennie, what of the Artist? 
They all slough off, every one of them, 
without any kind of fate from gods or 
men. And with them disappear all the 
hopes, all the scents aroused by our de- 
tective instincts— all the broken threads 
of interest trailing off in the wind. 

• • • 

We tried to get intellectual pleasure 
from this story. We have heard it said 
that cross-sections of 
Rejected life, projected at ran- 

Imagination dom, are good "real- 
ism." But we our- 
selves are old-fashioned enough to like 
a little art — in our provincialism we con- 
fess to a preference for, say, "The Tell- 
tale Heart" : we suspect that Poc would 
not have had any too great trouble get- 
ting that story published, were he among 
us to-day. Possibly we are guilty of 
the modern sin of class-consciousness, 
possibly we are too conventional in our 
liking for technique and too unappre- 
ciative of pure psychology, but the fact 
is that in the case of at least one of The 
Rejected Thirteen — well, we do not so 
much blame our friends, the fiction- 
magazine editors! 

• • • 

Since Graustark is closed to tourist 

travel because of the war, Mr. George 

Q g Barr McCutcheon has 

m/^*^f . *" turned his literary 
McCutcheon x ^ x *.u 
i^T ^ » i-i fancy from the roman- 
Nature-Fakir ^. # i . i. 

tic scene of his earlier 

thrillers to the very unromantic atmos- 
phere of the New England backwoods. 
But in his Green Fancy he manages his 
usual lightsome touch and disposes, to 
the reader's edification, of the destiny 
of one of the Balkan states and of the 
pretensions of some plotters whose evil 
machinations against the throne and the 
crown jewels are hatched up near the 
Canadian border. One phase of the 
book, however, gives us deep distress. 
With its • publication McCutcheon has 



joined the ranks of the nature-fakirs. 
We do not speak with the knowledge 
or with the authority and prestige of Mr. 
Roosevelt, but we say nevertheless with 
all the firmness in our power : Katydids, 
Mr. McCutcheon, do not make the 
night hideous in the spring. 



Mr. McCutcheon 
Solves the 
Riddle 



We apprised Mr. McCutcheon of 
this little discrepancy in his excursion in 
the reahn of nature 
with the result that he 
explained the whole 
situation most satisfac- 
torily in the following letter. We apolo- 
gise to Mr. McCutcheon for our lack 
of finesse in not grasping the solution at 
once. 

I am glad you have enlightened me in 
regard to the katydid. I confess I was puz- 
zled. Now I know it wasn't a katydid that 
made the noise, at all, at all, — as O'Dowd 
would say. The cleverness of those rascals 
up at Green Fancy is something uncanny. 
They deceived me entirely, — and I created 
them, too, mind you. It is perfectly clear to 
me now that the katydid couldn't have made 
the noise, for the simple reason that the 
thing wasn't born. So it must have been 
one of the many ways those ingenious con- 
spirators had of signalling to each other in 
the forest How simple it all is when one 
stops to think, — ^which I didn't, of course. 
Now that a little light is thrown on the 
matter, any simpleton can see how the ras- 
cals outwitted me. They merely imitated 
the katydid I Fortunately, however, it would 
appear that I am the only one they fooled. 
• • • 

The most startling meteor to swing 
into the publishing world recently is 

Burke's Limehouse 
''Limehouse Nights, which we un- 
Nights" derstand is now in its 

second edition. Mr. 
Milton Bronner wrote in the September 
Bookman the very first appreciation of 
Burke's work to appear in this country, 
the actual writing of this paper being 
done, of course, long before an American 
issuance was given to Burke's stories. It 



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was Mr. Bronner, readers of The 
Bookman will remember, who also first 
"discovered" Masefield with an appre- 
ciation of his work in The Bookman. 
Burke is indeed, as Mr. Bronner says, a 
"find." With his tales of London's 
Chinatown Burke has opened up a new 
literary field and has added to the dis- 
tinct originality of his own style the 
originality of a comparatively unworked 
literary milieu. 

• m • 

The women in the French munition 
factories show no signs of physical break- 
down, if Mrs. Ather- 
French ton's new book, The 

Amazons Living Present, is to be 

believed. According to 
this authority, the tossing of thirty and 
forty-pound shells is now a simple mat- 
ter to girls who before the war engaged 





CAPTAIN FREDERICK STUART GREENE, EDITOR 
OF "THE GRIM THIRTEEN." CAPTAIN GREENE 
BELONGS TO THE 302D REGIMENT, ENGI- 
NEERS, OF THE NATIONAL ARMY 



MRS. LARZ ANDERSON AS HEAD OF THE RED 
CROSS REFRESHMENT CORPS IN WASHING- 
TON, D. C. HER BOOK, "ODD CORNERS," OF 
WHICH SEVERAL CHAPTERS HAVE APPEARED 
IN "THE BOOKMAN," WILL BE PUBLISHED 
THIS MONTH 

in nothing more strenuous than the 
manufacture of paper flowers. Mrs. 
Atherton made a journey to France espe- 
cially to study the work of women in the 
war. She found them employed as let- 
ter-carriers and farmers, nurses, police- 
men, mayors of the villages. They are 
taking up duties which formerly were 
dependent entirely upon the greater 
physical capacity of men. According to 
Mrs. Atherton, a race of Amazons is 
being evolved, whose brawny muscles 
and strapping shoulders bid defiance to 
any "superior" attitude on the part of 
men. But they still powder their 
noses — the author herself remarked it — 
and she thinks it likely that they all 
cherish hopes of a happy romance when 

war is ended. 

• • • 

The war has brought changes from 
the biggest to the smallest things of life. 



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190 



Autumn 



With the 
Passing of 
Time 



Governments fall and governments rise, 
nations are abolished and new ones 
made, men rise to fame 
over night and heroes 
do their duty, strange 
new monstrous crea- 
tures of human ingenuity rear their 
mechanical frightfulness in the battle's 
storm centre, ideas spread like wild- 
fire over continents and Democracy 
"camouflages" in varied forms about 
the world. Then in the littlest things 
of life, too, there are events. Mr. Hearst 
is pleased to exemplify the roaring lion 
that we are taught to believe seeketh 
whom it may devour. Mayor Thompson 
(he of Chicago) continues at large, while 
the People's Council have not where 
to lay their heads. Recently our 
neighbour, The New Republic, became 
so excited over the "war after the war" 
that it devoted two leading editorials in 
the same issue to this subject and, mira- 
bile visu, these editorials are diamet- 
rically opposed to each other in belief 
and policy. We quote: Page 116, 
"Economic war after the war has re- 
ceived its final quietus"; page 123, "the 
economic war that must inevitably fol- 
low the war" (no, no, the editors, all 
of them, are sober, learned gentlemen; 
even we ourselves know one of them 
very well). But what affects us most 
nearly and dearly, what brings with it 
a touch of sorrow, even a feeling of per- 




THE LATEST PICTURE OF GEORGE BARR MC- 
CUTCHEON. HIS "GREEN FANCY" WAS PUB- 
LISHED LAST MONTH 

sonal loss, is the recent defection of one 
of The Bookman's old friends — a man 
whom we have never met» but of whom 
we had become so fond that the loss of 
his monthly advice involuntarily prompts 
the bitter cry of "enemy within." 
"F. P. A." no longer finds fault with 
The Bookman. O tempora, O mores! 



AUTUMN 

BY CHARLES EDEY FAY 

Brave Summer's bugles sing retreat, 
Her routed splendours all are gone, 

And in the distance fades the sound 
Of sunburnt legions tramping on. 

But loud the shout and high the song 
That fill the laughing countryside, 

As Autumn's bronzed battalions wave 
Their flaming banners far and wide. 

The asters with their purple plumes, 
The sumac red and golden-rod 

Lift up their ancient triumph hymn, 

While all the wayside burns with God. 



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MADRID TO MOROCCO 



BY ISABEL ANDERSON 
(Mrs. Larz Anderson) 



They have scattered olive branches and 

rushes on the street, 
And the ladies fling down garlands at the 

Campeador's feet; 
With tapestry and broidery their balconies 

between, 
To do his bridal honour, their walls the 

burghers screen. 

They lead the bulls before them all covered 

o'er with trappings; 
The little boys pursue them with hootings 

and with clappings; 
The fool, with cap and bladder, upon his 

ass goes prancing. 



'Midst troops of captive maidens with bells 
and cymbals dancing. 

--Old Spanish Ballad, 

A ROAR rises from the Carrera San 
Hieronomo. Cries of fakirs, calls of 
men selling papers or lottery tickets, 
warnings of coachmen. Every now and 
then a band goes by, playing in the 
curious muffled manner of the Spanish, 
with sudden wild bursts of the fanfare 
and the drums. On the corner there is 
the music of the blind guitarists and the 
singing of a child, and a bagpipe which 
a man blows into whenever there is 




THE ROYAL WEDDING IN MADRID. "THE COACHES WERE GLORIOUSLY PAINTED WITH ARMORIAL BEARINGS AND 

LACQUERED IN COLOURS AND GOLD" 



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Madrid to Morocco 



a chance of his making himself heard. 
The heat is so great that the people 
walk the streets all night. There is as 
much going on at four in the morning 
as at four in the afternoon. All day 
and all night the crowded life of the 
city passes beneath our windows. 

The streets are gay with flags and 
strings of lights. The houses have 
their balconies hung with banners and 
scarfs of many colours, red and yellow 
predominating. Some families display 
their coats of arms embroidered on great 
red velvet squares, while others hang 
out rare tapestries. 



Royal carriages without number make 
their way through the throng with foot- 
men in red stockings and coachmen in 
wide, gold-banded hats, and men in uni- 
form, and royal escorts of dragoons for 
the visiting princes. There are guards 
set in front of the palaces where ambas- 
sadors are housed. In front of the 
Medina Coeli, where the Austrian arch- 
duke stops, great footmen in yellow are 
lolling, to the vast delight of the people, 
and a bugler stands ready to do the 
honours when another ambassador pays 
his visit. 

This is no ordinary holiday. Madrid 




A CAMEL CARAVAN AT TANGIER 



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193 



is making ready for the wedding of the 
King. 

The ceremony was to take place the 
last day of May, and a few days before 
thfi Eaotg went north ia his special train 
to the border to meet his bride, the 
Princess Victocia^ All along the route 
soldiecs were stationed, and platforms 
were cleared wlKrever the train stopped, 
so that no harm might befall her. At 
Irun'the King met the royal party and 
conducted them to the Pardo Palace, 
near Madrid, to remain for the week 
before the wedding. Things had been 
l»ought from other palaces to make the 
place pretty for the Princess, and it had 
been given a thorough cleaning — ^which 
it no doubt needed. 

The wedding day was hot and sunny, 
but brilliantly clear. The procession 
began to pass our windows about half 
after nine. The street was lined with 
sddiers, mounted and on foot, and 
army officers and diplomats in magnifi- 
cent uniforms drove by on their way 
to the church, and women in beautiful 
white dresses, with maatillas, feathers, 
jewels, and trains of every colour. 

There were two of these processions, 
one with the King and the other widi 
Princess Victoria, and both were quite 
prompt in coming. They moved along 
with spacing and digpi^, and every- 
thing was so well done that even to the 
rei^ublican mind it was not in any way 
absurd. 

Heading the pageant came the fine 
mounted carabinieri with their cocked 
hats and red plastrons. Mounted msgor- 
domos followed them, reappearing at 
intervals with each escort, and sky-blue 
lancers, and dragoons in great helmets 
and feathers, and heralds in carriages of 
state, with huge coats of arms, and 
trumpeters who every now and then 
blew blasts on their trumpets. There 
were processions, too, of ''horses of 
respect," covered with superb trappings 
of ricbly onbroidered velvet and led by 
splendid foo^ncn. 

Then came the great coaches of die 
grandees with gorgeous lamps at the 
four corners and crowns and magnificent 



trappings in the colours of the family. 
Footmen with, powdered hair and staves 
walked solemnly at either side. On the 
horses' heads were plumes of vast size 
and lovely hues that waved as they 
passed,, and the harnesses wefse mounted 
with gold or silve:^. These carriages 
were drawa by two horses each. 

Following this part ol the procession 
came thi^ foreign princes in coaches 
drawn by four horses, and then the mem- 
bers of the Spanish royal family, drawn 
by six. These coaches were even more 
gloriously painted with armorial bear- 
ings and lacquered in colours and gold, 
and the royalties occupying them were 
brilliantly clad. 

Preceded and followed by a handsome 
staif and escort, came the King's great 
tortoise-shell coach, drawn by eig^t big 
white horses decked with snowy plumes. 
Alongside walked the gorgeoualy liveried 
servants and the guard oi honour, some 
of whom were soon to die. The King 
was greeted with great applause. 

Just ahead of His Majesty's carriage 
went a lacquered gold coach with eight 
horses, more splendid than any that bad 
gone before. But it was empty — the 
"coach of respect," to be used in case of 
accident. Later on in this eventful day 
it was destined to be so used. 

A shorter procession^ much like the 
first, followed after a pause of fifteen 
minutes. At the end of it came the 
Princess Victoria, who was also nuich 
cheered. 

No words can give any idea of the 
regal splendoux of the whole spectacle. 
There wasn't a single tawdry touch, or 
a tinsel look to suggest the circus, as is so 
often the case with royal progresses now- 
adays. It must have been quite like this 
in olden times. Each carriage and each 
man, each horse, every trapping, was a 
study in glorious colour. The crimsons 
and canaries, olives and deej^ reds, ex- 
quisite blues, with deeper shades, mus- 
tards and pinks, were like thos^ ol old 
tapestries and old stuffs, all beautifully 
subdued. There wasn't a garish note. 

After the marriage ceremony had been 
performed at the church the two pro- 



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cessions joined and returned over the 
route as one, the King and his Queen 
riding together in the royal coach and 
bowing to the right and left amid great 
cheering. As they passed I wondered 
if they really were happy, and what their 
lives would be. We watched the won- 
derful pageant defile across the square^ 
which was all gay with the red and yel- 
low, and turn up the narrow street 
opposite, the fateful Calle Mayor. 

Although the police had been told 
that there was danger of a bomb in the 
Calle Mayor, the awful thing was al- 
lowed to happen. A man whose move- 
ments would seem to have been suspicious 
enough, threw a bomb from a window 
that would surely have hit its royal mark 
exactly if it had not struck a telegraph 
wire and burst in air. As it was, it 
killed the footman who was walking 
within a few feet of the King, and also 
the great white horses at the pole. It 
devastated the escort and killed or 
wounded over a hundred of the by- 
standers. Broken glass cut the King's 
coat, but a medal he was wearing saved 
him from a wound. The Queen's dress 
was spattered with blood, but she was 
unhurt. 

The leaders of the coach were so 
frightened that they ran and dragged 
the other horses^ some of them dead or 
dying, for forty yards before they could 
be stopped. Then the King got out, 
helping the Queen to the empty coach 
of respect ahead. Some English secre- 
taries, who had come back from the 
ceremony and were watching the pro- 
cession from a balcony, came down and 
did what they could to help. The King 
talked incessantly, but the Queen said 
not a wo^d. She told some one after- 
ward that her first thought, as she saw 
the bomb explode and blow a soldier to 
pieces, was, "That is meant for me. 
Will It kill me, too?" Both were very 
pale. Poor innocent creatures — she so 
young and so pretty, and he so plucky 
and genial I 

When they reached the palace it is 
said he put his arms about her and kissed 
her, and said, "God save my Queen!" 



It is the custom for the royal family, 
when one of them has escaped some 
danger, to go to a certain church and 
give thanks, but the Queen absolutely 
refused to go, and took to her bed and 
cried. 

Next morning I heard a great com- 
motion outside and rushed to the bal- 
cony. There were the King and Queen 
going slowly by in an auto, almost un- 
accompanied, to visit the wounded in 
the hospital. The people were so excited 
and enthusiastic that they fairly climbed 
into the car. Later in the day the brave 
young King walked through the streets 
alone, amid great cheers. But every- 
body was on edge; there were several 
panics over nothing at all — an orange 
tossed from a balcony, or a signboard 
that caught fire. 

Saturday was the date set for the 
court ball and the bull fight in honour 
of the King's wedding. The ball was 
turned into a reception, but the rest of 
the programme was carried out. The 
people were eager to see their young 
sovereigns again, and their curiosity was 
gratified, for the royal family— except 
the English members — drove in semi- 
state to Los Toros. 

The scene was a gay one. The royal- 
ties in open landaus with four horses 
and outriders were followed by carriages 
with foreign princes and diplomats. The 
ladies wore their best white lace man- 
tillas and high shell combs with carna- 
tions of the national colours, red and 
yellow. The bull ring became gay as 
a blossoming garden. No one could 
help being keenly alive to the beauty 
of the spectacle. 

Since we had the good luck to have 
places in an upper box we watched 
the young Queen take her seat by the 
King's side in the royal enclosure near 
by, and noticed that as she waved the 
white scarf for the bull fight to begin 
her self-possession never failed. 

Three superb enamelled coaches drove 
into the ring bearing grandees of Spain, 
who alighted before the King and Queen 
and with low bows presented other 
grandees dressed as knights of old. 



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After them came swaggering toreros in 
costumes of brilliant colours, then the 
matadors, cappas, picadors, banderil- 
leros, and mule drivers, all bowing 
as they passed. A murmur of admiration 
rose from the crowd, for it was a won- 
derful sight. Nothing like it had been 
seen for generations ; it was the splendour 
of Charles V. 

The first bull fight was given in old 
Spanish style. The pen opened and a 
wild black bull came proudly into the 
ring amid cheers. Two grandees dressed 
as knights and riding beautiful spirited 
horses circled round him and stuck in 
slight picks which broke half way and 
were left in his shoulder. It was so 
skilfully done that the bull's horns 
never struck the lively horses, and the 
bull, poor beast, soon sank upon his 
knees in exhaustion. He had been 
teased and worried till his proud spirit 
was broken. Then, with one adroit 
lunge of the matador's sword, he fell 
dead, and the populace applauded loudly. 

The second bull fight was in the fash- 
ion of to-day. The bull, entering with 
a mad rush, was easily enticed by a 
cappa toward a poor, decrepit horse 
stupified with morphine and blindfolded. 
As the bull charged the horse the picador 
thrust his pick into the animal's shoul- 
der. The enraged creature, in a frenzy, 
drove his sharp horns again and again 
into the miserable horse till it fell writh- 
ing to earth. 

This was arranged to happen directly 
in front of the royal box. It was the 
Queen's first experience of a bull fight, 
and she witnessed it with apparent calm- 
ness, with never a change of colour. 
She must not flinch. On guard before 
this alien race, she again showed her 
Anglo-Saxon self-control as nervelessly 
as when the terrible bomb was thrown. 

No firecrackers were needed for this 
bull. Amid great cheering he chased the 
toreros till they were forced to jump 
over the barrier. He killed five horses 
in his fury. Then he became exhausted 
and his end was near. Up came a 
matador and slew him with one stroke 
of his sword. 



The rest we did not see, for we left, 
having had enough. 

The night after the bull fight came 
the court reception. Except the palace 
in Petrograd, the one in Madrid is 
supposed to be the finest in the world. 
It is an enormous place, large rooms, 
marble floors, brocade on the walls, and 
painted ceilings. One room had a very 
decorative ceiling in porcelain. There 
were many pictures, mostly by Goya. 
The ballroom had fine tapestries set in 
the wall; in three adjoining rooms they 
were hung as we had never seen any 
before, overlapping each other and 
looped back at the doors and windows. 
They were wrought with gold and sil- 
ver thread especially for Spain by Flem- 
ish artists. There are supposed to be 
seven miles of them stored away in the 
palace, a few being taken out at a time 
for special occasions like this. 

The King and Queen received the dip- 
lomats in the throne room, which is all 
red and gold. Then they walked 
through the other rooms, stopping some- 
times to talk with friends. Ahead of 
them were the Spanish royal family, the 
Queen's mother, the Prince and Princess 
of Wales, and some grandees. After 
we had caught a glimpse of the proces- 
sion we went back to the tapestry room, 
in which we were much interested, and 
where there were only two or three 
others besides ourselves. Suddenly, to 
our surprise, the royalties came march- 
ing through again, so we had a good 
bow from the bridal couple all to our- 
selves. 

By far the most beautiful of the cere- 
monies connected with the wedding was 
the High Mass, which was celebrated in 
the royal chapel of the palace. But even 
the special ambassadors did not see it, for 
only the King and his court and the 
foreign princes were permitted to at- 
tend. For all that, we saw the High 
Mass. 

Our diminutive friend Antonio, who 
seemed able to do many things, hurried 
us through the crowd that thronged the 
great galleries of the courtyard outside. 
Tagging on to the coat tails of some 



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grand official, we were passed through 
guarded doors and up back ways, mount- 
ing steep service stairways, till we came 
to a lange room directly over the high 
altar of the royal chapel. There, through 
a grille, we could look on in comfort at 
the whole ceremony, while sweet incense 
rose from the burners below to delight 
our senses. 

The chapel was a vast octagonal hall, 
very lofty and stately, rich with marble 
and gold and frescoes. Opposite the 
deep chairs of the cardinals rose the 
royal throne with the seats for the in- 
fantas and grandees of Spain near by. 
On the other side were bendies for the 
officials and suites of the court. The 
suites of the foreign princes stood in an 
enclosure, while the princes themselves 
sat in boxes which opened into the chapel 
as in a theatre. Because the Queen 
Mother was not of Spanish blood, she, 
too, occupied a box, and with her — in 
pale blue satin — sat the Princess of 
Wales. 

The halberdiers took up their stations. 
The only movement during the whole 
ceremony which was not devotional was 
the changing of these men, who stood 
like statues till they were on the point 
of fainting. The doors were opened, 
and we could see the crowds in the gal- 
lery outside. Through them came slowly 
in procession a train of gentlemen-in- 
waiting and chamberlains, all in gor- 
geous dress. As they passed before the 
altar they bowed and crossed themselves, 
then turned and bowed to the Queen 
Mother in her box, and took their places 
on the benches. 

Following them came three cardinals 
in wonderful red robes with their 
attendants, and they, genuflected and 
crossed and bowed. The King and 
Queen entered next, taking their places 
on the magnificently embroidered throne, 
the infantas of Spain following. Then 
came another procession, this time with 
many ladies in white mantillas and 
beautiful dresses of pale yellow and 
blue; they reverenced first, the cross, 
then the King and Queen, the infantas, 
and the Queen Mother. The chapel was 



filled with a blaze of colour as they took 
their seats. 

After the Mass there was a Te Deum 
in recognition of the King's escape from 
the bomb. The orchestra for the occa- 
sion was fine, and the singing almost 
divine. The King performed all the 
devotions with much pomp, the Queen 
in her new religion following. It was 
one of the most perfect ceremonials I 
have ever seen. Before it was quite 
over we went down and were admitted 
to the sacristy, which had windows over- 
looking the galleries, so we saw the 
whole procession once more as it left the 
chapel. 

A church service in Spain is always 
like stepping back into the Middle Ages. 
They say the Spanish are the most do- 
quent of all the Catholic clergy, and 
that Castilian is really the only lan- 
guage in which to address God. 

A few weeks before going back to 
Madrid for the King's wedding we had 
been in Seville for the celebration of 
Holy Week. Those wonderful proces- 
sions I There is nothing like them any- 
where else in the world. They are made 
up of floats bdonging to difiFerent 
diuixiies and aocteties whose members 
walk with diem. Most of the organisa- 
tions adopt dominoes of some distinctive 
colour with high pointed hats from 
which long visors fall over the face and 
form a mask. Sometimes long trains 
are worn which are allowed to drs^ on 
the ground when passing the royal box. 

The floats are from ten to twenty feet 
long and each one is borne by a score of 
men walking beneath. These men wear 
turbans so long that they form a sort of 
padding for the shoulders where the 
weight of the float falls. The proces- 
sion moves very slowly, for the reason 
that they can only march about a hun- 
dred yards without stopping to rest. Be- 
sides being attended by the members of 
its own organisation, each float is also 
accompanied by soldiers and a band. 
The costumes of the members vary, now 
black velvet, or purple, or blue and 
white, or — like the members of the 
butcher society — those of Roman sol- 



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dicrs. Some who were doing penance 
marched without shoes. Several girls 
took part in the procession we saw, one 
of them dressed as St. Veronica, with 
bare feet and long hair falling over her 
brown robe. 

There were many figures of the Vir- 
gin, each on its own float and dressed 
in a superb robe of red or black or 
purple velvet with a long train em- 
broidered in gold or silver. They are 
carved from- wood and have painted 
faces and real hair. From neck to 
waist they are bedecked with wonderful 
jewels and wear crowns of real gems 
and rings and bracelets galore, and each 
one carries daintily a lace handkerchief. 
In front of them is a perfect forest of 
tall candles and at either corner a silver 
lamp. Often the base of the float is 
of silver, too. Even while peasants were 
starving, the sum of thirty thousand dol- 
lars was easily raised to buy a diamond 
crown for a Virgin. 

The societies are composed of poor 
as well as rich members, of course. The 
cigarette factory girls' float, which 
represented a Virgin — like most of the 
others — ^was the most popular in the pro- 
cession. The King left his box and, 
with his suite in uniform at his heels, 
joined the group and marched with 
them. This caused much cheering, for 
he was very popular and this was his 
first visit to Seville. 

It was very gay that afternoon on 
the stand where the young monarch sat. 
All the seats were taken and it was much 
like a horse show — young men visiting 
the boxes and much flirting going on, 
for this is one of their few chances. 
Most of the women were dressed in 
black brocade with black mantilla, but 
wore bright roses in their hair and a 
gaily coloured petticoat, and many 
jewels. 

Later that same afternoon we went 
to the cathedral to see the ceremony of 
the washing of the feet. Twelve men 
from the poorhouse had been selected, 
bathed, and given new suits for the occa- 
sion. They sat on a platform, each with 
a towel over his shoulder. The boot and 



stocking were taken from one foot which 
was dipped in a basin that a priest car- 
ried; this priest touched the foot with 
the towel and then the bishop kissed it. 
The robes of the bishop and canons were 
very handsome, and there was much 
incense. 

Late in the evening the "Miserere" 
was sung very impressively in the ca- 
thedral, which was almost dark, lighted 
only by candles here and there, and filled 
with crowds of worshippers. The bril- 
liantly lighted floats were carried 
through and then another procession be- 
gan which lasted till four or five in the 
morning. I was standing there in the 
crowd and feeling very serious and re- 
ligious when I was suddenly brought 
back to this world by a naughty Span- 
iard, who pinched me. 

On Wednesday of Holy Week occurs 
the service of the rending of the great 
white veil behind the high altar, to 
symbolise the rending of the veil of the 
temple at the time of the crucifixion. 
Those of us who were not fortunate 
enough to have hired chairs stood during 
the ceremonies. Before us, and between 
us and the high altar, was a low railing 
with a great golden gate; at either side 
and in the centre were three pulpits. 
Behind us another golden gate led into 
the enclosed choir which is found only in 
Spain. Three priests mounted into the 
pulpits and chanted, each in turn. The 
service of the rending of the black veil 
is held on Saturday. At this ceremony 
there is a sound as of thunder, and the 
veil parts in the centre and disappears — 
this is perhaps the most impressive of 
all the services of Holy Week. 

During Thursday and Friday of this 
week not a carriage was allowed in the 
streets. We were out in ours a few 
minutes longer than we should have 
been, for no one had told us about the 
custom, and in consequence we received 
a message from the governor and were 
obliged to pay a fine. 

Thursday morning the King, with his 
mother and sister and a suite and guard, 
walked through the streets and prayed 
before the Virgin at various churches. 



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A bull fight was to have taken place 
on Easter Sunday, but did not because 
the picadors struck. A law had been 
passed forbidding them to use such cruel 
picks. This made it more dangerous for 
them, since the bull did not tire so 
quickly^ and it also resulted in the death 
of more horses. The matter was finally 
arranged, and the fight came ofiE the 
following Tuesday. The first bull 
killed only one horse and was not con- 
sidered "brave." We could not sit 
through any more, however — that was 
quite terrible enough. 

Before leaving for Granada and other 
places we had a glimpse of the Alcazar, 
the famous old Moorish palace where 
the King stays when he is in town. It 
was in good condition and very beauti- 
ful, but seldom used. Our consul took 
us through the royal apartment, the 
King having just left for Madrid. The 
furniture was old and in bad taste, and 
the pictures of no value — in fact, the 
rooms reminded one of a shabby hotel. 
In the lovely tropical garden outside, 
where the roses were in bloom^ they 
showed us a tree planted, it was said, 
by Columbus. 

Everyone who goes to Spain visits 
Granada, so I suppose I must say a 
word about it, although we have read its 
story so often. The cathedral with its 
tombs of Ferdinand and Isabella was dis- 
appointing, but I think the garden of the 
Generalife, the summer palace of the 
Moorish kings, is the most enchanting 
place in the world. It is a scries of 
gardens on a hillside with fountains and 
orange trees and great climbing roses, 
and flight after flight of stone steps with 
water flowing down a runnel in the 
top of the balustrades. From the high- 
est point one has a superb view of lofty 
snow mountains and the luxuriant plain 
beneath, and looks down upon the huge 
walls and towers of the Alhambra forti- 
fications on a hill below. Within the 
walls are hotels and dwellings, and the 
imposing though unfinished palace of 
Charles V. 

There is also the old Moorish palace, 
the Alhambra, which is considered one 



of the wonders of the world. It is in- 
deed a marvel of beautiful work in 
plaster with ceilings of wood inlaid with 
ivory and mother-of-pearl, or with pend- 
ants in the form of stalactites. As the 
Mohammedan religion forbids the repre- 
sentation of man or beast, the designs are 
principally letters. The building was in 
fairly good condition, for it was being 
restored in many places. The baths of 
the sultan are handsome, but not so fine 
as some we saw in India. 

The marriage tower was kept by two 
women whose parents had lived there 
before them till they were struck by 
lightning and killed. The sisters are 
obliged to ring the bell every hour dur- 
ing the night, for the irrigation of the 
fields is regulated by it. 

A familiar figure about the hotel and 
the Alhambra grounds is the old king 
of the gypsies, picturesque in his quaint 
costume. Many of his people live not 
far away in caves dug out of ledges of 
rock, not wandering as most~gypsies do, 
but staying there from one generation 
to another. Their rooms are white- 
washed and kept very clean, with brass 
dishes shining on the walls. A garrulous 
old woman, whose palm I had crossed 
with silver, told my fortune. With 
mysterious signs she offered me some 
well-worn cards to cut and bade me 
make a wish. Then she herself cut and 
re-cut the cards and laid them out, while 
the bold, hard-faced gypsy girls and 
the lying, thieving gypsy men stood 
close to listen. It was the usual story — 
a dark man, danger (the card with the 
dagger), adventure (the card with the 
lantern), and money, with the bag of 
gold. But with the bright pans gleam- 
ing on the walls and reflecting the fire- 
light on those dark faces with flash- 
ing black eyes and sinister glances it 
made a weird sight that I have not for- 
gotten. 

We left Granada and the beautiful 
snow mountains and went down to the 
plain, where the poppies were in bloom. 
This is the land of oranges, olives, com, 
and grapes, and we passed fields where 
the black bulls that were being raised 



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for Los Toros were pastured. On the 
way to Gibraltar there were groves of 
cork oaks, their trunks showing orange 
where the bark had been stripped oflF. 

As we steamed across the Straits from 
Algeciras the mountains on the coast of 
Africa changed from pale blue to grey 
and brown and green. The little walled 
town of Tarifa, the last stand of the 
Moors, slipped past us^ while away in 
the distance Cape Trafalgar stretched 
out into the Atlantic. 

At first glimpse Tangier was disap- 
pointing — ^just a town of white houses 
piled up on the hillside. But when we 
had had the excitement of landing, with 
shouting Moors and Berbers and what- 
nots fighting for us, and had passed the 
Water Gate into the winding ways and 
got into the squalour and rags — never 
have I seen such rags as in Tangier! — 
we began to realise that it had the at- 
mosphere and charm of the East. 

From the terrace of our hotel outside 
the walls we could look out upon the 
great busy market with all its life and 
bustle. People streamed past like ants 
and here and there, rising above them, 
was the fine figure of a horseman all en- 
veloped in his bu moose and riding his 
red-saddled Arab. Crowds of people sat 
on the ground about a story-teller, who 
also fenced with sticks for the amuse- 
ment of his patrons. Donkeys stood pa- 
tiently by, waiting for the loads of grass 
on their backs to be sold. Women, too, 
were beasts of burden, for many of them 
bore bundles of sticks which they had 
brought into the city from miles away 
and were waiting to sell. Under cover, 
we heard, there was still the buying and 
selling of slaves. 

The different sects of Mohammedans 
with their music and their flying flags 
of yellow or green-and-yellow, the tomb 
of a local saint in the centre of the 
square with its rag of red flag, the ceme- 
tery below where miserable little pro- 
cessions passed in and out all day long, 
gave us always something to look at. 
Then there were the beggars, who 
seemed to make the bridges their special 
haunt — dreadful creatures, many of 



them blind and all in rags. Some had 
had their eyes put out by their masters 
for stealing. 

In a small whitewashed hut sat 
Raisuli's judge in summary court with 
gesticulating crowds forever quarrelling 
before the door. Raisuli seemed to be a 
very powerful and much dreaded man. 
All disputes in his district were taken 
to this judge of his in the market-place. 
He had two enemies shot while we were 
in Tangier, and it caused a lot of ex- 
citement, making it dangerous for for- 
eigners to go far outside the city. All 
the legations were in his district, and 
the friends of the men whom he had 
killed were anxious to capture a foreign 
diplomat and hold him till they were 
given Raisuli in exchange. 

Stories of residents in Tangier made 
us realise that we were within the sway 
of Oriental justice. Here the sultans 
and bashaws and caids ruled undisturbed 
and their will was law. All the lega- 
tions could do in those days was to try 
to keep out of trouble. The situation 
was all the wilder because everyone in 
Tangier knew that so many countries 
were hungering for Morocco that no one 
would give way to another. The squab- 
ble at Algeciras had made them realise 
their independence of foreigners and 
their ability to fight among themselves 
as they pleased, and to treat foreigners 
as they chose. 

The streets of the city were narrow 
and dirty, and most of the people one 
saw were men. Women of the better 
class never go out except on Fridays, 
when they may visit other women, and 
on the one day in the year when they 
go to the mosque. The houses are white 
and are much like those of the Spaniards, 
with a court in the centre. The door- 
way of a Moorish house is closed only 
by curtains, but when the owner wishes 
privacy he leaves a slipper outside. Men 
have been known to wall up the door 
on going away for several months, leav- 
ing their wives and servants with food 
inside. They told us that in Fez, the 
capital of Morocco, no one was allowed 
to sell or rent a house to a missionary, 



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and that one man who did so had been 
crucified. 

A Mohammedan can have four wives 
and as many slave women as he can 
afford. He can divorce any one of his 
wives at any time by giving her back the 
amount of money she came to him with, 
and she can marry again. The husband 
may pick out any child of any wife to 
succeed him. 

Wives are supposed to cook the 
food for their husbands, to make their 
clothes, and grow fat. Country women 
have more freedom than those in cities, 
for they are obliged to work outdoors, 
and in that way they meet men and 
marry the one they care for. In the 
wedding ceremony they must lift the 
veil, and if they are being married to 
some one they do not like they can refuse 
to lift it. 

The shereef of Wazzan married an 
English woman who was governess in 
the family of Mr. Perdicaris.* The 
shereef, who was the son of a black 
slave, asked if a daughter of his could 
be taught by the governess, and so came 
to know and love her. Mrs. Perdicaris 
sent her back to England to her parents, 
hoping to prevent the marriage, but the 
shereef sent to ask them for their daugh- 
ter's hand, promising to divorce the three 
wives he already had. The girl returned 
to Morocco and married him. Three 
years later Mrs. Perdicaris had a letter 
from her saying that she was being 
slowly poisoned, and begging for help. 
Mrs. Perdicaris went to the English 
minister, who sent word to the shereef 
that his wife must be given up to them 
at once, alive. So she was, and at the 
time we were there lived in a nice house 
with one of her sons, who had married 
a Moorish woman. The shereef died 
soon after, and she now points to his 
photographs with much pride. 

Morocco is the land of presents. If 
you admire anything it will probably 
be given to you, but — a gift of equal 
value is expected in return. The Sultan 
always gives a foreign minister a horse 

♦Mr. Perdicaris was the American who 
was kidnapped by Raisuli. 



and saddle or a carpet, and swords or 
daggers to the secretaries of legation. 

An American whom we met had been 
to Fez, which is a four to six days' 
journey from Tangier. The Sultan of 
Morocco, who lived there, had taken a 
fancy to him and presented him with a 
mule and a saddle of red velvet and 
gold, and also with a "holy" horse 
which had been to Mecca. He told us 
that the natives used to come to see it, 
and kiss it, and it was always the first 
horse in the stable to be fed. On the 
other hand, happening to admire the 
American's riding crop, he took it and 
said, "This is a nice one. I will keep 
It." A cigarette case and other thii^ 
went the same way. Once when they 
were riding together the American 
chanced to admire a house they were 
passing. That night the Sultan bought 
it for him! 

Early one evening as we stood in a 
window overlooking Tangier there was 
a report of a gun from the mosque. This 
was followed by the wildest fusillade all 
over the town, from roof tops and from 
the midst of the crowd in the market 
below our windows. There was smoke 
everywhere, and we could hear the whiz 
of bullets. The noise lasted for some 
time, and we were much relieved later 
to learn that it was not a riot, but 
simply a celebration in honour of the 
new moon, which was specially welcome 
this month because Mohammed's birth- 
day occurred in it. 

After dinner one night in the consul's 
garden some native musicians grouped 
themselves against a wall beneath some 
vines, looking very picturesque in the 
dim lantern light. A flute player gave 
us the wild music of the land, and the 
others played with their quaint instru- 
ments. Among the tunes was the old 
Lament of the Fall of Granada, which 
tells of the grief of the Moors at being 
driven from their homes in Spain. This 
reminded us of something we had heard, 
that the Moors of to-day still treasure 
the keys of the houses in Granada which 
their ancestors left four hundred years 
ago, never to see again. 



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PRESIDENT WILSON IN CONTEMPORARY 

CRITIQUE* 

BY LUTHER E. ROBINSON 



The interpretation of contemporary 
personages and events loses the contagion 
of sweetness and light which springs 
from an ample perspective. It suffers 
the illusions of judgment too close to 
its objects of regard. On the other 
hand, it often avails, even by force of 
special pleading, to indicate useful lines 
of evidence or by its sins of omission in- 
duce a search for better * standards of 
judging well. Stimulating public opin- 
ion by definitely selected persons and 
points of interest, it helps to create an 
atmosphere of new ideas by the challenge 
it throws out to those whose complacency 
or bias of mind has stood them in stead 
of trustworthier conclusions. 

In our country, criticism of this in- 
strumental sort, especially in the field of 
politics, is too little cultivated. We need 
more of it for its synthetic effects upon 
our diverse currents of public sentiment. 
It should come to us in the form of 
thoughtfully written books for the home 
and the library. Our daily papers can- 
not answer for it, inasmuch as the judg- 
ments of the press are, for the most 
part, newsy, fluctuating, and impression- 
istic. Our periodicals are too versatile 
in matter to give it more than occasional 
consideration. Although we are tradi- 
tionally a party people, independent 
thinking and voting have made prophetic 
progress among us in recent years. Our 
few books on public leaders and policies 

^President Wilson from an English Point 
of View. By H. Wilson Harris. New York: 
Frederick A. Stokes Company. 

Woodrow Wilson, the Man and His Work. 
By Henry Jones Ford. New York: D. Ap- 
pleton and Company. 

Woodrow Wilson as President. By E. C. 
Brooks. Chicago: Row Peterson and Com- 
pany. 

Wilson and the Issues. By George Creel. 
New York: The Century Company. 



at home too often lack the freedom from 
prepossession or expediency or academic 
manner which the catholicity of our na- 
tional development might easily suggest. 
For this reason, a well-considered for- 
eign view of our national policies and 
personalities is all the more welcome. 

A very compact, well-balanced book 
has been written by H. W. Harris, of 
London, to interpret President Wilson 
and his measures to English readers. It 
was published in England just before our 
declaration of a state of war with Ger- 
many, but the recent American edition 
includes the author^s account of the cir- 
cumstances leading to the rupture. The 
book is semi-biographic. The main facts 
of the President's nativity and education, 
of his professional and literary life, are 
outlined by way of prelude to the larger 
purpose of exhibiting his acts and mo- 
tives as a statesman. At the opening of 
the European war, the President's atti- 
tude of strict neutrality was felt by 
many in Great Britain to stand for 
American indifference to the issues and 
tragedies involved. The English public 
needed an explanation of our point of 
view by one of their own number. Be- 
lieving that "The relation between 
Great Britain and America will be 
among the most powerful factors in 
world politics after the war," Mr. Har- 
ris hoped by his effort to help effect a 
closer understanding between the people 
of his country and those of our own. 

Such a purpose, always welcome 
whether in peace or in war, could best 
be served by a clear-eyed summarj^ of the 
President's life, particularly of his prin- 
ciples of statecraft. The language of the 
book, always simple and dignified, no- 
where weakens to the impulse of British 
predisposition. The impersonal temper 
in which with expert brevity the author 



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202 President Wilson in Contemporary Critique 



has aligned and appraised the acts and 
objects of the President's domestic policy 
will be gratifying to his readers on this 
side. Mr. Wilson's practical philosophy 
of corporate control and monopoly, of 
' tarifiE and finance, of labour and capital, 
as well as of the articulation to be de- 
sired of incoherent and duplicating agen- 
cies for the sake of greater economic effi- 
ciency, are presented with clearness and 
candour. His ideas of government are 
shown to have evolved with remarkable 
unity from his earlier days of academic 
reflection to his later successes. in direct- 
ing the course of congressional legisla- 
tion. At the conclusion of his book, 
Mr. Harris reproduces the President's 
address to the Senate on January 21, 
191 7, and his second inaugural. These 
he regards as containing the Executive's 
fullest expression of the future role of 
the United States in international poli- 
tics — a frank abandonment of the "de- 
tachment and isolation that for ninety 
years has been the corner-stone of her 
foreign policy." 

In his accurate and sufficiently de- 
tailed exposition of our politics, Mr. 
Harris does not forget to remind his 
audience of points of difference between 
American and British processes of gov- 
ernment, not so fully, of course, as we 
get them from Mr. Bryce or Lord 
Charnwood. The institution of a presi- 
dential programme through the milieu 
of congressional committees has seldom, 
if ever, furnished a more interesting ex- 
ample of the practice and tendency of 
our constitutional system than during 
Mr. Wilson's first administration. This 
is well illustrated by what the author 
has to say in his chapter on "The Attack 
on Privilege," discussing the late tariff 
and currency acts. The growing lead- 
ership of our presidential office in legis- 
lative initiative is a development analo- 
gous to the similar function of the Brit- 
ish Prime Ministry. Mr. Wilson's in- 
cumbency has strengthened this analogy 
somewhat. Readers of Mr. Harris's 
volume who have noticed this tendency 
will be interested in his reference to the 
President's early predilection for gov- 



ernment by Cabinet responsibility. His 
sympathy for this method is shown to 
date as far back as 1879, when as a 
senior at Princeton he published a well- 
conceived article in the International 
Review endorsing "Cabinet Government 
in the United States." 

The President's leadership in the 
legislative programme of his first term 
confronted a situation whose difficulty 
this English writer notices with a di- 
rectness it deserves. Although nomi- 
nated and elected by forces in revolt 
against "machine rule," his advent to the 
Executive office carried with it the ne- 
cessity of reshaping the ideals of his own 
party in Congress to a point of knowl- 
edge and courage sufficient to support 
the new ethics he proposed to advance 
both in law and administration. This 
as we know called for patience and tact 
of a high order. It is doubtless too early 
to consider at length the importance of 
Mr. Wilson's ideals on party or politi- 
cal standards. It is clear that he has 
followed his settled convictions in this 
direction. Some years before there was 
any expectation that he would be called 
to the responsibility, he recorded as his 
view of die presidency that the party 
nominating the Executive "cannot but 
be led by him in the campaign; if he is 
elected, it cannot but acquiesce in his 
leadership of the government itself." 

His responsibility for the conduct of 
our foreign affairs has, of course, in- 
volved the points at which criticism has 
shot its most ardent shafts at the Presi- 
dent. One might gather from this Eng- 
lish view that it is too early for an im- 
partial verdict here also. Mr. Harris 
indicates the right and left sides of the 
elusive Mexican problem and invites the 
reader to make his choice. He notes, 
however, the President's committal to 
the doctrine that "nationals of one state 
operating in another state for their own 
benefit do so at their own risk," and 
finds in this attitude not only a "strik- 
ing departure from international prac- 
tice," but an inconsistency when opposed 
to some of the ideas which Mr. Wilson 
later expressed in his speeches on "pre- 



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President Wilson in Contemporary Critique 203 



paredness." It may be admitted that 
Mexican atrocities received a more clem- 
ent treatment than the distresses in- 
flicted upon our citizens and their rights 
by a government from which the Presi- 
dent had every reason to expect the 
ability and the sense of humanity to 
maintain treaty obligations and respect 
for international practice. 

The frankest defence of the Presi- 
dent's policy of non-intervention in 
Mexico comes from Mr. Henry Jones 
Ford, professor of politics at Princeton, 
in his volume on Woodrow Wilson. 
There is no question in his mind but 
our citizens go to other countries at their 
own risk; that they may expect noth- 
ing more from their government than 
that it will insist "on legal treatment 
and reparation" for the "violation of 
rights secured by treaty and acknowl- 
edged by international law." The 
proper modus, he thinks, is to demand 
satisfaction for injuries received. This 
modus the administration has pursued 
toward Mexico, and the "Car ranza Gov- 
ernment has acted with promptitude and 
energy in pursuing and executing ban- 
dits implicated in the murder of Ameri- 
can citizens." This orthodox position 
would be simple if it satisfied all of the 
conditions or provided for every exi- 
gency. The very existence of "rights se- 
cured by treaty or acknowledged by in- 
ternational law," insisted upon^ would 
undoubtedly require a government to 
share the risks of its citizens engaged 
in residence and business abroad, and 
might easily call for intervention in be- 
half of their rights secured by treaty 
where no reparation for serious injus- 
tice were made. But in the case of ir- 
responsible Mexico, too much torn by 
internal troubles for impatient action on 
our part, there was every reason for 
both forbearance and prevision. The 
"adroit utilisation of opportunities to es- 
tablish more cordial relations with all 
the American countries" was a practical 
wisdom which both Mr. Ford and Mr. 
Harris lay to the President's credit. 
This forward-looking result, not to 
speak of Mr. Wilson's expressed sym- 



pathy for the Mexican people in their 
hard struggle for emancipation, naturally 
placed our country in a far happier po- 
sition to face the complicated interna- 
tional burden thrust upon us by the 
quarrel, and its event, with Germany. . 

Collateral with Mr. Harris's purpose 
to enlighten an uncomprehending Brit- 
ish public on the policies of the adminis- 
tration is his pertinent observation of 
British short-sightedness in judging 
America exclusively "by the Eastern 
States." This defect arises, he remarks, 
from the British habit of reading Ameri- 
can papers from east of the Alleghenies 
only and ignoring those west. In work- 
ing out its destiny, the West, he admits, 
has social and economic ideals of its 
own. "It fears and hates war for rea- 
sons that demand respect" — some of 
them "pardonably lost on the average 
Englishman," though not on Mr. Wil- 
son, "who never allowed himself to for- 
get that he was President of the West 
as well as of the East." It is likely that 
Mr. Harris virtually parallels the pre- 
vailing sentiment of this country in his 
opinion of the President that "No 
statesman living to-day has more con- 
sistently, more resolutely, or with deeper 
Conviction applied in the government of 
a great commonwealth the lessons of a 
discerning, a sober and a constructive 
liberalism." 

It is the province of political interpre- 
tation to indicate the blemishes as well 
as the distinctions of statecraft. The 
interpreter must be expected to speak 
with knowledge and restraint in com- 
mending what he regards as well done 
no less than in charity or rebuke of 
what he believes to be ill done. Mr. 
'Harris does not pass over certain infelici- 
ties of speech by which the President 
has at times confused the public mind 
and produced the impression of hesita- 
tion or conscious inconsistency in ideas. 
These apparent delinquencies he con- 
nects with those well-known addresses 
containing the expressions, "too proud to 
fight," "peace without victory," "with 
the causes and objects of the war we 
have no concern," etc. The misfortune 



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204 President Wilson in Contemporary Critique 



of these expressions, as he correctly sees 
them, lay not in their true interpreta- 
tions, but in the misconception they could 
so easily engender. 

From his ability to look at both sides 
of a question with admirable disinter- 
estedness, Mr. Harris has approached a 
more complete standard of interpreting 
the President than Professor Ford has 
succeeded in doing. The latter's book 
is full of useful information about Mr. 
Wilson. The chapters on his "Career 
as an Educator" and "His Books and 
Essays" surpass the corresponding sec- 
tions of the English volume. The chap- 
ter on "Personal Traits" is capital. It 
is the most luminous "side-light" on the 
President's personality yet published. 
The Appendix reproduces the Palmer 
letter of February, 19 13, giving Mr. 
Wilson's views on the proposal to make 
a president ineligible for re-election. 
That part of the book dealing with the 
President's public acts was written (and 
well Written) to espouse his re-election. 
Here one fails at times to find the ju- 
dicial temper that belongs to the his- 
torical spirit and method. 

In still less degree is this temper 
and method employed in the book on 
Woodrow Wilson As President, by 
Professor Brooks, of Trinity College. 
This volume is an anthology of the 
President's public utterances, not a biog- 
raphy. As a compilation it is quite use- 
ful for libraries, where students of our 
politics and history may find in severalty 
Mr. Wilson's views on numerous ques- 
tions of import in our time. The run- 
ning comments prefacing the selections 
are full but uncritical. The writer is an 
ardent advocate of every act and atti- 
tude of the President sans condition. So 
is Mr. George Creel, in his piquant lit- 
tle volume on Wilson and the Issues. 
This racy apologia of the President's po- 
litical achievements during his first four 



years of service must have delighted 
many a well-wisher for the choice of 
Mr. Wilson for a second term. It 
must have furpished flavorous diver- 
tissement to some independents leaning 
in the same direction. The book su|>- 
plied a telling counter-irritant to the 
highly seasoned stump arraignments of 
the opposition. As a piece of special 
pleading, but very ably briefed, it must 
find repose in the libraries as a docu- 
ment of interest chiefly to the special 
student of our party politics. 

It is indeed difficulty if at all possible, 
in portraying a contemporary, to escape 
the pitfalls of prepossession or of illu- 
sion. It is of course easier to write 
with a personal purpose, to maintain a 
special thesis. Moreover, as Mr. Bryce 
once pointed out in an essay on Glad- 
stone, it is difficult to explain or judge 
a man whose activities have covered va- 
rious fields of endeavour. The task is 
rendered less simple in the case of men 
who, like Gladstone and President Wil- 
son, appear to unite strong individuality 
and unquestioned scholarship with 
marked political astuteness. Yet, what- 
ever its shortcomings, every book writ- 
ten in good earnestness about a living 
leader or contemporary event of public 
interest helps on to a just, if long de- 
ferred, estimate. These books on Presi- 
dent Wilson, among others, touch in 
common the clear note of modern de- 
mocracy, to which he has perhaps given 
the noblest expression in our day. For 
possibly no better formula for govern- 
ment by the people, in its fateful strug- 
gle against the rule of force, has been 
conceived in our time than may be found 
in his late response to the peace pro- 
posals of the Pope. The perfect utter- 
ances of that great state paper must 
have brought high spiritual satisfaction 
and cheer to the friends and forces of 
popular government around the world. 



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SOME STORIES OF THE MONTH* 

By H. W. BOYNTON 



SoNiA IS a story of our own day and 
hour. The two worlds of its subtitle 
are the worlds of a past and a future 
separated by the war. The action 
brings its characters to the hour of self- 
realisation; their development belongs 
chiefly, after all, to the past. Most of 
the narrative, therefore, is given to 
the ante-bellum England which, how- 
ever spiritually wandering, seemed so 
physically safe. The book is rather 
closely analogous to St. John Ervine's 
Shifting Winds, Here also is told at 
great length the story of a group of young 
Britons, making their way together 
through public school and university, 
sharing work and play and boyish 
dreams of ameliorating the sadness and 
reforming the corruption of the existing 
world. We are spared nothing of de- 
tail as to their speculations and argu- 
ments, hardly an aspect of the political 
and literary life of England during the 
past two decades is untouched upon. 
Nor does the chronicler, Oakleigh, 
hesitate to pause frequently for disserta- 
tion and commentary upon his records; 
his whole conscious life is tied up with 

*Sonia: Between Two Worlds. By Stephen 
McKenna. New York: George H. Doran 
Company. 

The Snare. By Rafael Sabatini. Phila- 
delphia: J. B. Lippincott Company. 

Behind the Thicket. By W. £. B. Hen- 
derson. New York: E. P. Dutton and Com- 
pany. 

Day and Night Stories. By Algernon 
Blackwood. New York: E. P. Dutton and 
Company. 

The Triumph. By Will N. Harben. New 
York: Harp^ and Brothers. 

The Man Thou Gayest. By Harriet T. 
Comstock. New York: Doubleday, Page 
and Company. 

Jap Herron: A Novel Written from the 
Oulja Board. New York: Mitchell Ken- 
nerley. 

The Treloars. By Mary Fisher. New 
York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. 

We Can't Have Everything. By Rupert 
Hughes. New York: Harper and Brothers. 



the public fortunes of England in a 
fashion hard for an American to under- 
stand : "I can just remember, as a child 
of six, the fall of Mr. Gladstone's third 
administration. ... I remember re- 
motely and indistinctly fighting a young 
opponent at my private school over the 
rejection of the second Home Rule Bill ; 
two years later Liberalism went behind 
a cloud, the Liberal Unionists came in 
welcomed and desired, and almost im- 
mediately — as it seemed — ^we were busy 
preparing for the Diamond Jubilee." 
An uncle of Oakleigh 's is a political 
power in London, and Oakleigh him- 
self in due time enters the arena, with a 
high heart. But his uncle's pessimistic 
forecast is presently justified ; the nephew 
finds that politics is less a mission than 
a game, and he is pretty well disillu- 
sioned and weary of effort to improve 
the world when the war takes matters, 
for better or worse, into its own hands. 
So it happens with his two best friends. 
One is Jim Loring, who is also the 
Earl of Chepstow : with all his brilliancy 
of mind, he sees nothing ahead but the 
following out of the traditions of his 
class; there are too many difficulties in 
the way of letting himself go, of gen- 
erously abandoning himself to his kind. 
As for O'Rane, with his fierce, 
dreams for human liberty and hap- 
piness, he is on the way to madness 
when the battle-call summons him to a 
concrete duty. O'Rane is the real hero 
of the story — and, on the whole, its least 
real person; a kind of super-adventurer, 
before whose magnetism all men bow. 
He knows great sorrows and makes 
theatrical use of them, does a good deal 
of snivelling over himself, first and last. 
In his treatment of Sonia he is an un- 
deniable bounder. He is supposed, of 
course, to atone for everything and to 
vindicate himself, once for all, by his 
extraordinary martyrdom at the front; 



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Some Stories of the Month 



but he remains a woman's hero^ a species 
of Byron-Rochester-Manisty (Does any- 
body remember Mrs. Ward's Manisty?) 
such as few male readers can really ad- 
mire. The book does not end without 
its prophecy as to the nature of the new 
world toward which we are moving: 
"A generation has gone to war," cries 
O'Rane, "and two-thirds of its man- 
hood will never return. A third may 
come back, and when peace dawns it 
will light up an England of old men, 
women, and boys. The returning troops 
who have looked death in the eyes and 
been spared — ^were they spared for noth- 
ing? Destiny, Providence, God, Luck, 
even. You may choose your name. If 
they come back when others as good or 
better are blown or tortured to death, 
do you suppose their escape hasn't bred 
in them a soul? For a day and a night 
they have lived the Grand Life; will 
they slip back? If they'll die for their 
country, won't they live for it? Can't 
you dream of a New Birth . . . ?" 

In The Snare, that skilful romancer 
Rafael Sabatini offers a not ungrateful 
diversion from the present with its 
troubles, by recolouring and revivifying 
a certain troublous incident out of the 
past. It is an incident of Wellington's 
campaign against the French in Portu- 
gal. Wellington was out to save Portu- 
gal, but there were traitors in high 
places secretly opposing his methods and 
playing the spy for the enemy. His 
plan involved laying waste great tracts 
behind the frontier reaching to fortifi- 
cations secretly prepared, before which, 
already starving, the French should be 
brought up short and forced to turn. 
It was to be a bold stroke against the 
Napoleonic principle of "living on the 
country." But it all depended on secrecy 
and unity of action. Suddenly the 
drunken blunder of a young English 
officer gives the plotters their chance 
to upset the delicate balance. Their in- 
fluence causes the Portuguese Council 
of Regency to demand that the culprit 
be made a scapegoat. He is at large, 
and it falls to his brother-in-law, O'Moy, 



British Adjutant-General at Lisbon, to 
promise that he shall be shot when 
taken. From this situation develops a 
coil of circumstance whose disentangling 
any reader who is at all susceptible to ro- 
mantic narrative will follow with breath- 
less interest. It is decidedly the sort of 
plot that ought not to be given away by 
the reviewer. Mr. Sabatini shows his 
quality by giving his persorut enough 
characterisation (and not too much, as 
may easily be in romance) to lift the 
performance from the earthy status of 
the cheap thriller to the celestial plane 
of romance. 

The effect of Behind the Thicket is 
also romantic, although the element of 
romance emerges slowly from the satiric 
realism of the greater part of the nar- 
rative. Not until the very end do we 
perceive that six-sevenths of these pages 
have been introductory, and that the 
brief concluding Third Book contains 
the real gist of the matter. A fairly 
prosperous couple of Londoners, some 
time married, are ordered out of the 
city for the sake of their «ix-year-old 
boy, and take a house in rural but ac- 
cessible "Wokeborough." The mother 
is herself rather delicate, and in this 
very neighbourhood, during the months 
before the boy Michael's birth, has de- 
veloped a strange sensitiveness of re- 
sponse to nature, "a modern Pan-worship 
deriving from a deep and little-worked 
vein of sensuousness which underlay 
her nature." The boy has inherited 
this. In most respects and in most 
moods he is normal enough, but at times 
the woods call him irresistibly, and he 
is good for nothing till he has responded, 
at least momentarily, to the call. I 
falls to him in due time to take up the 
ordinary life of the respectable young 
Londoner in the conventional business 
office. Outside the steady pressure of 
this slavery the world slowly crowds in 
upon him — a very modem world. 
Worldly women tempt him — in vain, 
because of a strange dream in his heart. 
His sister falls in with a fast Bohemian 
set, imbibes the doctrine, and becomes 



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Some Stories ot the Month 



207 



the mistress of a musician, and in the 
end goes wrong altogether. Two or 
three chapters here embody an unspar- 
ing and quite shattering realism. 
Michael's mother is dead, his sister 
worse than dead^ his whole world in a 
meaningless coil. From it all he makes 
his final escape to his beloved forests. 
Alone in the woods, Michael swiftly 
reverts to an ancient character, sloughs 
off the habits and senses of civilisation, 
and becomes a faun whose nymph, 
dimly visioned in her earlier state, now 
awaits him. Their moment of perfect 
union is broken by the wrath of Dio- 
nysos : in the throat of the dead faun the 
only human being who could have com- 
prehended finds the arrow of the jealous 
god. 

The short Third Book might very 
well stand by itself as an imaginative 
sketch rather in the manner of Mr. 
Blackwood. Several of the new Day 
and Night Stories by that delver into 
the occult have much the same idea as 
Behind the Thicket. In "The Touch 
of Pan," an Englishman is drifting 
wearily toward marriage with a woman 
of the fast, modern type. The life of 
his class disgusts him, but nothing bet- 
ter seems attainable. Then, at the elev- 
enth hour, he is released. At a fashion- 
ably dissolute house party he finds a 
daughter of the family who is kept in 
the background, a girl of mind and 
character so simple and complete that 
her people think her an idiot. The 
strange pair are drawn together at once, 
are sure, without any stages of acquain- 
tanceship, that they belong together. 
They meet that night in the forest, to 
become faun and nymph among the 
riotous people of the night, and to be 
sealed to each other by Pan himself. 
From their excursion into the unmoral 
pagan world of nature they return to 
gaze with horror at the deliberate and 
joyless immorality of the country house 
set. "Initiation" describes a similar re- 
union with primitive nature on the part 
of a New York banker in whose com- 
mercial soul has survived a trace of the 



love of pagan beauty which had inspired 
a remote English ancestor. The other 
tales all have to do with the borderland 
between life and death, with reincarna- 
tions, or with other subliminal mat- 
ters. It is probably coincidence that 
the title of this book has already been 
used for two volumes of more or less 
creepy stories by Mr. T. R. Sullivan, 
published in the early nineties. Mr. 
Blackwood's fancies are to my mind 
more effective in these brief sketches than 
in the long-drawn narratives of Julius 
Le Fallon and The Wave. 

The American novels of the moment 
are nearly all of romantic temper. In The 
Triumph Mr. Harben holds to his usual 
local Georgian setting, but this is a story 
of Georgia in the time of the Civil War. 
The central figure, Andrew Merlin, is 
a hater of slavery, and long before the 
outbreak of the war has taken his stand 
for the preservation of the Union. He 
is shiftless in practical matters, and his 
family standard of living is not much 
above the level of the poor whites. His 
brother Thomas, on the contrary, is a 
wealthy planter and slave-holder, a 
dogmatist and fire-eater of the true ante- 
bellum type. The two are strongly, not 
to say artificially, contrasted in every 
possible way. Their differences of 
opinion are made less tolerable by an 
unlucky business connection, in which 
Andrew's tactlessness is chiefly at fault. 
Then open rupture comes: a slave is 
turned over to the unwilling Andrew in 
payment of a debt, and the whole coun- 
tryside is outraged when Andrew lives 
up to his principles by first treating the 
negro as an equal, and then actually 
setting him free. Only the zealot's 
daughter stands by him; his wife de- 
spises him, and his son enlists under the 
Confederacy after he himself has joined 
the Northern forces. The end of the 
military struggle means little peace for 
him, he comes home crippled to find that 
his son has been killed, that his wife 
hates him, and that he is expected to 
walk softly in the presence of his neigh- 
bours. This is not in him; he is as 



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Same Stories of the Month 



outspoken and independent as ever, and 
things conspire to make him odious and 
suspected. In the end he owes his 
narrow escape from the summary ven- 
geance of the Ku Klux to the sudden 
magnanimity of his powerful brother, 
and finds himself free and respected at 
last, in a land of promise. "In life's 
grim battle the triumph was his" — a tri- 
umph involving the marriage of his 
daughter to the son of that aristocratic 
Southern family which has always held 
him as dirt berteath its feet. It cannot 
be said that Mr. Harben's aristocrats 
are as "convincing" as his commonalty; 
Anne Merlin and Arthur Preston are a 
sfn"gularly wooden pair of leading ju- 
veniles. 

The Man Thou Gavest is a tale 
of northern city and southern mountain, 
very feminine and emotional in tone and 
substance: Northern young man is 
despatched southward for his health, 
finds lodging in the hut of a mountain 
sheriff, who presently makes off to the 
deep woods, leaving his guest alone with 
his already restored health and a play 
he is fiddling with. Enter mountain 
maid, wild but innocent — sudden love — 
pair isolated by storm — "In Thy sight 
I take this woman for my wife." Young 
man summoned North — ^must make her 
his wife in the sight of man before he 
goes — no parson. Storm has done for 
parson. Well — ^back soon. Fate and 
the author intervene. By a generous 
provision of misunderstandings and 
mystifications the young pair are to see 
each other no more. The mountain 
maid bears her child of shame, and is 
magnanimously wed by her ancient 
mountain lover. The young man's eyes 
arc gradually opened to the perfections 
of the girl he has known from child- 
hood and has probably always loved. 
They marry. This girl is quite modern ; 
she has already solved the problem of 
"economic independence," and intends 
their marriage to be an equal partner- 
ship, or slightly more so. Presently 
the husband shows that he misunder- 
stands her, says something rather rude. 



in fact, and she promptly withdraws into 
her own fastness. Of course people who 
misunderstand each other like that 
should thenceforth l>e married "in name 
only." From this time on Lynda takes 
the lead, kindly instructing her hushand 
from time to time in the way he should 
go. Meanwhile, though they both want 
children, they remain apart in order to 
preserve their self-respect ; and presently, 
wlien they have respected themselves and 
each other sufficiently, it appears that 
they are not likely to have children. 
Then appears the mountain maid out of 
the past, and offers Lynda her child. So 
Lynda adopts it without revealing to 
her husband that it is his own child — 
until, years later, the right and effective 
moment arrives. The fatal weakness in 
this story is not its artificiality of plot 
and excess of emotion so much as the 
hollow elaboration of its characters. We 
might have enjoyed the romance if the 
author had not tried to make it a vehicle 
for realism. 

Jap Herron is another odd melange. 
It purports to come from Mark Twain ; 
though the publishers refrain from put- 
ting his name on the title page, they do 
not scruple to use his portrait as frontis- 
piece and on the cover. "Over the ouija 
board," two literary ladies have re- 
ceived, with some difficulty, this in some 
respects Twainish yarn. Suppose we 
forget its source and look at the thing 
itself. Jap Herron is the son of the 
local drunkard of a village somewhere 
in Missouri. After his father's death 
and his mother's remarriage "to another 
bum," Jap runs away and strays into 
Bloomtown and the printing office of 
the Herald of that little place. The 
editor, Ellis Hinton, has already worked 
and starved himself to the verge of con- 
sumption — an idealist who has hitched 
one of his traces to a star and the other 
to a village newspaper, which must 
truckle to succeed. Bloomtown is a 
dingy, gone-to-seed little place, which 
has once been defeated of a railroad, 
and has never fairly held up its head 
since. Years back Hinton has been 



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209 



cheattxl into buying the Herald, and 
Ins oking to it as a iorlom hope. Jap 
BppeintB himsekf assismnt, ivfaidi means 
dikfty the sharing of Hinton's tfaank- 
lesB «oil and pitiful fare. The two be- 
come devoted to eadi other; a good third 
is added them in Ae son of the village 
skinflint, and, later, a fourth in the an- 
gdic middle-aged Flossy^ who marries 
Hinton and mothers them all. It is 
Hinton's dream that Jap shall grow up 
to be what he himself has wished to be, 
a power for righteousness in the com- 
munity. Jap docs: we leave him secure 
in the 'esteem and leadership of a re- 
juvenated Bloomtows, triumphant over 
its elements of sloth and of evil. This 
outline shows a story such as Mark 
Twain in the flesh might have written ; 
and it is filled in with scenes and dia- 
logues of a rough rustic humour which, 
as the ouija board justly prides itself, 
"sounds like Mark." But our outline 
does not suggest the predominating qual- 
ity of the book— -a strained sensibility, 
a pathos deliberately fostered and 
"rublxd in." Jap burets into tears on 
the slightest excuse. Confronted with 
Flossy's baby, and told that it is to be 
named for him, he '*8obs stormily," falls 
on his knees and cries, "If God lets me 
live, Flossy, I will make him proud of 
me." But most of the pathos has to do 
with death foreseen, experienced, or 
recalled. Hinton dies; Flossy and ^e 
baby die ; and the detaik of earthly grief 
are luxuriated in to the utmost. Is it 
a Mark-Twain boy who, long after 
FloBsy's death, sobs over her grave "in 
an abandon of grief"? Is it die Mark 
Twain of our knowledge — is it, alas! a 
Mark Twain freed from the bondage 
of death, who thus gloats over human 
pain? "Boys they were, despite their 
years, and Flossy luid been more to them 
than the mother whom youth is prone 
to take for granted. When the tem- 
pest of sorrow and desolation had spent 
itself they arose. . . . 'It is done,' said 
Jap, looking up into the sky nt^ere the 
stars were beginning to twinkle palely. 
'It had to be done. Now I can realise 
that they laid Flossy beneath the earth. 



But, please God^ I can't forget it. Now 
I know that she has left the beautiiul 
shell behind. But, Bill,' he touched the 
mound with his fingers, 'Flossy has never 
been here, never for an instant.' " 

The Trdoars is a book of scope and 
power by a hand fresh at story-making. 
Readers who like swift action may find 
the conduct of the narrative too leisurely. 
By others, the digressions and discus- 
sions whidi fill so many of these pages 
may be regarded as^ the cream of the 
book. There is a story here, however. 
The scene is California. The Treloars, 
who live in the country near Berkeley, 
are a family of high cultivation and of 
warm humanity. The father is a bril- 
liant man who has ceased to be a parson, 
years since, because he can no longer 
conform to the creed of the Church. 
Thereafter he has gone his own intel- 
lectual way, not unrecognised by scholars 
and thinkers, but without great achieve- 
ment in the worldly sense. Hard by 
lives his friend and intimate, who is also 
a detached philosopher — of anodier 
school. Their chief recreation is in 
controversy. Trcloar has three grown 
children. With one of the daughters, 
Catherine, we have little to do— a girl 
who has brains enough only for the hard 
and selfish part of the modern feminist 
practice. Margaret, the other, is a 
woman of intellect and character. Her 
brother Dick holds the centre of her 
stage, and responds to her devotion. We 
meet her at the moment when Dick is 
about to try his fledgling wings at jour- 
nalism. In the city he presently meets 
an enchantress, an actress of none too 
savoury past. The wredcing of his sis- 
ter's happiness and a ludcless marriage 
are the result. He is released before the 
total crippling of his life, and after an 
illuminating experience with that great 
destroyer and maker of men, the war- 
front, achieves a real union with the 
good and simple girl he should have mar- 
ried in the frist phce; to Margaret also 
the chances of war have brought a fitting 
mate. The "plot," as will be seen, is 
wrought out of familiar materiak. The 



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weight of the book lies in its honest 
characterisation, and in the wealth of 
thoughtful commentary upon modern 
life and with which the narrative is en- 
riched. In the young German^ Max 
Gietmann, with his contempt for moral 
and aesthetic standards and his cynical 
exaltation of brute force, the familiar 
devil of the modern world is embodied 
in little. 

The six-hundred-odd pages of We 
Can't Have Everything display Mr, 
Hughes at his most discursive and casual. 
Their discursiveness is often very amus- 
ing and sometimes edifying; their cas- 
ualty (as Mr. Hughes would say) is 
irritating and disappointing. For this 
writer, whether he cares about it or not, 
has shown himself capable of genuine 
interpretation and characterisation — by 
which, of course, the critic means noth- 
ing less human or desirable than the 
painting of actual humanity at its busi- 
ness of living. The people of this book 
are not actual, they are relative and in- 
substantial. They float vaguely before 
us in a cloud of talk — or, let us say, 
pinned to the machinery of the coldly 
invented action. They are typical in the 
little sense and not in the big. Each 
of them reminds us, more or less 
strongly, of some human type we have 
seen or heard or read of, but none of 
them makes us forget the type in the 
act of embodying it. Kedzie Thropp 
is the young person all our no\'clists try 
their hands at, sooner or later — ^the ig- 
norant little beauty from the provinces 
(preferably the Middle West) who 
comes to New York, handicapped by 
vulgar and offensive kin, and takes it 
physically by storm. This lady has had 
a hundred rehandlings since Mrs. 
Wharton's Undine Spragg. Kedzie 
Thropp is as good as the rest of them — 
perhaps as good as the best of them; 
the little smiling, hard-hearted soldier 
of fortune who gets all the loot there 
is, but never all she wants. Step by 
step, inch by inch, we attend her prog- 
ress and share her promoted discontent, 
as spanked child, candy saleswoman, 



Grecian dancer, movie queen, titular 
member of the Four Hundred, to the 
supreme yet still discontented hour when 
she spurns these shores as a fully accred- 
ited marchioness of England. Integer 
vitae — ^her dress and manner and titles 
change, but she herself remains the same 
Kedzie who first forced her way in the 
reluctant wake of her parents from Nim- 
rim, Missouri, to the charmed portals 
of Manhattan. She is the one person 
in the story in whom we more or less 
believe. As for the others, the more 
strokes the artist puts into their por- 
traits, the less clearly wc. sec them. 
Jim Dyckman, athletic millionaire and 
aristocrat, perilously resembles one of 
Mr. R. W. Chambers's husky and 
gilded puppets. The fact that his author 
will not let him speak like an English 
chappie does not atone for his forcing 
him to speak like an American mucker. 
We are always hearing about what a 
gentleman he is, but we never sec him — 
never hear him, at least — being it. Nor 
does Charity Coe Cheever impress her- 
self upon us as the fine patrician she 
is cracked up to be. They are both 
commonplace and common, and whether 
they remain two or become a pair does 
not really strike us as worth all the 
trouble we are put to for their sakes. 
The truth is, Mr. Hughes has again, in 
the thin disguise of a story-teller, taken 
the floor to have his say about some- 
thing. The title suggests the satirical 
humour which gives the story such 
value as it has, as a story. There is no 
such thing as absolute satisfaction in 
life, he says, the rich are no nearer per- 
fect felicity than the poor; the virtuous 
have their bad moments as well as the 
vicious; everything we have must be 
paid for in some way. But if this is the 
moral of the book, it is not its theme. 
Several times of late this writer has 
made himself a champion of one article 
or another of the feminist creed. 
Clipped Wings really enforced, by means 
of an excellent story, the idea that a 
woman ought not to be required to ex- 
press herself only in marriage; The 
Third Commandment upheld the neces- 



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21 I 



sity of "economic independence" for 
married women; the present book is an 
argument in favour of tolerably easy 
divorce, with a laboriously arranged ex- 
hibit of what decent people may suffer 
under the present laws of New York 
State. If die believer could only have 
embodied his belief in his story! Un- 
luckily, it is only too clear that his idea 
and not his people interests him. That 



is a singularly lame and impotent con- 
clusion which finally permits Jim to 
bribe the necessary clergyman into mar- 
rying him and Charity, and then holds 
them up as worthy to receive "a certain 
praise and gratitude which the world 
gives only to those who defy it for 
the sake of what their own souls tell 
them is good and true and honour- 
able." 



OTHER BOOKS DISCUSSED 



Waldemar Westergaard's "The 
Danish West Indies"* 

Amid the thunders of a world war 
events of importance in themselves and 
worthy of considerable attention tran- 
spire almost unnoticed. Thus it happens 
that the transfer to the United States by 
the Danish Government of three West 
India Islands^ St. Thomas, St. Croix and 
St. John, was hardly even "news" suffi- 
cient to call for front-page comment in 
the press, or to arouse any particular 
interest on the part of a public satiated 
with "news" of catastrophal quality and 
quantity. And yet in a great many ways 
this event possessed importance beyond 
its surface interest. It meant the re- 
tirement of Denmark from the Western 
Hemisphere, and, in fact, the retirement 
of Denmark from the world map as a 
Colonial Power. It meant an extending 
of the sphere of influence of the United 
States southward and eastward in a di- 
rect line from Porto Rico and Hayti, 
and it meant the acquisition for this in- 
fluence of two excellent harbours in the 
Canal Zone which militarists tell us 
are of strategic importance, but which 
common sense tells us are of inunense 
commercial importance for the protec- 
tion of shipping in a hurricane-ridden 
territory. 

*The Danish West Indies. By Waldemar 
Westergaard. New York: The Macmillan 
Company. 



Denmark realised the importance of 
the sale, and throughout the autumn 
months during which the negotiations 
approached an acute stage and finally 
came to completion, the sale of the 
islands was the topic next in importance 
to the war, at times even of equal impor- 
tance, since the war was with people 
daily in the Scandinavian countries, and 
the sale was something new. There was 
intense excitement and a clash of opin- 
ions that brought down a hornet's nest 
about the heads of the responsible min- 
isters. There was a new note in that 
discussion, something just hinted at at 
the time of our purchase of the Hiilip- 
pine Islands, and openly voiced in 
Denmark last autumn; this was the 
question of the rights of the inhabitants 
of the islands, the question as to whether 
their allegiance to this or the othei* 
nationality was a thing that could be 
bought and sold ... as it has always 
been considered hitherto. 

However, the sale is an accomplished 
fact, and therefore the volume which is 
the reason for this review comes doubly 
welcome. It was planned and written 
before the negotiations as to the sale 
began, and was planned as one of a 
series of three which Dr. Westergaard 
intends to devote to the subject of die 
Danish West Indies. The present vol- 
ume was to describe the beginnings of 
the colonies and their growth and vary- 
ing fortunes up to 1755. But in view 



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of the transfer to the United States the 
author has added a supplementary chap- 
ter dealing with the negotiations^ and 
giving a statistical summary of the 
development of the islands up to the 
present time. It is this development 
which he will elaborate in detail in the 
further two volumes planned. 

Dr. Westergaard's work is so well 
done that it has gone far beyond the 
original scheme of a history of the 
Danish Colonies on the Western Hemi- 
sphere. It gives us, in its wealth of au- 
thenticated detail, in the personal inti- 
mate and very "alive**' style of the 
narrative, a glimpse of the beginnings 
and early days of colonial history gener- 
ally in the West Indies, and will prove 
a reference book of inestimable value 
for many a student, many a writer and 
many an intelligent voyager in a district 
which is ever becoming of greater impor- 
tance to the home-land of the United 
States. 

Dr. Westergaard himself, an Amer- 
ican of Danish descent, and Assistant 
Professor of History at Pomona College, 
California, brings every element of 
knowledge, scientific training and per- 
sonal sympathy necessary to the task 
he has set himself. And furthermore, 
he gvidently possesses literary ability 
suiEcient to remove his book from the 
class of dry reference works for library 
shelves, and to put it into a class of 
books that are not only conunended, but 
really read. 

The Danish West Indies Colony was 
not a Crown Colony. The islands, first 
St. Thomas, then St. John, then St. 
Croix, were taken for development by 
one of those Chartered Trading Com- 
panies that are of such immense impor- 
tance in the history of modern civilisa- 
tion, in that they have proved the most 
efiEective means, in many cases, of open- 
ing up new territory to production and 
conunerce. Dr. Westergaard uses this 
fact as an excuse for his book. As there 
have been so few, if indeed any, authen- 
tic and at the same time concise and 
convenient histories of these companies, 
he hopes his story of one of them will 



justify its own existence. In his own 
words : 

If the importance of the history of the 
Daoish Islands in the West Indies is to be 
judged by the extent of the interests in- 
volyed, or is to be measured by the actual 
influence of the islands upon the h]3tory of 
the Caribbean or on the state of Denmark- 
Norway, the propriety of devoting an en- 
tire volume to them might well be questioned. 
But if a rather detailed study will disclose 
the rise of a fairly typical plantation so- 
ciety, if it will show on a small scale the 
sort of thing that took place in the West 
Indian Lands in the seventeenth and eigh- 
teenth centuries on a large scale, such as 
the rise of the sugar industry and the slave 
trade, the effort need require no apology. 
For the islands reflected very distinctly the 
economic solidarity of the West Indian com- 
munity at a time when it was looked upon 
as one of the main sources of the world's 
wealth. 

The troublous times that came to the 
young colony, the clash of personali- 
ties, personal intrigues and ambitions, 
with the slow growth of a population 
coming to feel this solidarity of interest 
with the surrounding islands as against 
exploiting interests at home, are de- 
scribed against the colourful and equally 
troublous background of European his- 
tory during the years from 1671 to 1755- 
The reflex, in those far-oflE lands^ of 
political changes in Europe, mingling 
with the daily hardships of pioneer life 
complicated by climate and the dangers 
of slave labour, must indeed have freed 
the colonists from one trouble — mo- 
notony. And yet somehow we sense in 
it all the sameness, amid dangers and 
hardships, of the individual existence, 
and get a realisation of how after all 
civilisation has been built up on myriads 
of these individual lives with their petty 
cares and worries. 

AH of which may be interpreted to 
mean that Dr. Westergaard has per- 
formed a difficult task exceedingly well^ 
and has given us a woric of serious and 
lasting value by his ability to retdi out 
through a subject which may seem small 



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213 



in itself, to the larger relations of which 
it was a part. 

The bibliography afSxed to this first 
volume is of unusual value from the 
conunents attached to each source of ref- 
erence quoted. These comments will 
guide the student who wishes to consult 
first sources, to those which are of value 
to him, without further loss of time. 
Grace Isabel Colbron. 

Enos a. Mills's "Your National 
Parks"* 

After spending many strenuous sum- 
mers in roaming over most of our Na- 
tional Parks and th«}se of Canada, I read 
with pleasure Enos Mil)s*s interesting 
J*»scriptions of his outdoor life amid their 
charms. He gives us the* history of each 
F-ik with a description of many of the 
most notable scenic features, while, in 
the appendix we find a practical guide 
showing in detail the routes and expense 
of visiting the National Parks and 
Monuments. 

There is still a curious public indif- 
ference in regard to our western regions 
of beauty and wonder. In tl e early 
days it took many expeditions to the 
Yellowstone to convince people of the 
wonders claimed for it by explorers. 
The creation of almost every national 
park has required the long continued ef- 
fort of men of vision and courage. Even 
properly to preserve them in the present 
day is often a task in which one may find 
himself inadequately supported. Un- 
questionably John Muir laid down his 
life in his great effort to protect the 
Hetch Hetchy for future generations, 
and we owe the creation of the Rocky 
Mountain National Park to Mr. Mills's 
untiring enthusiasm. Far too often, 
when it is proposed to set aside a new 
region of forests and of mountains for 
the whole nation, do we find private in- 
terests insidiously opposing the public 
good. Even when it is desired to enlarge 
a park by including an adjacent region 
of equal or even gr(;ater scenic impor- 

*Your National Parks. By Enos A. Mills. 
New York: Houghton Mifflin Company. 



tance, the few enthusiasts who know and 
who care often encounter a dek^ of years 
on the part of our legislators. Little 
wonder that Mr. Mills calls on die 
youth of the land to visit our mountain 
regions and to offer their trained ser* 
vices for the creation, development and 
preservation of what is ''likely to prove 
the richest, noblest heritage of the na- 
tion." He quotes in substaiK:e Whit- 
tier's advice to a young man seeking the 
way of success in life, — ^Attach yourself 
to a noble and neglected cause and stay 
with it until you win. 

One of the essential elements of edu- 
cation is real acquaintance with God's 
creation, for this book learning is never 
a substitute. Only sympathetic and joy- 
ous communion with flower and tree, 
with bird and animal, and with the 
eternal mountains can supply an infinite 
need of the soul. In more ways than 
one our national parks are reforming 
man. One of these coming changes that 
I see is in our attitude toward animals. 
For the deepest reasons all killing for 
sport will eventually become obsolete. 
Mills remarks that, "None of the big 
animals in the United States are fero- 
cious. In parks it is men, not animals, 
who are on their good behaviour." Real 
acquaintance with Nature removes all 
fear and superstition. Exploration and 
enjoyment of the mountains were long 
retarded by the belief that they were 
inhabited by monsters and demons, and 
Mills refers to what he calls a "most 
unfortunate superstition, commonly be- 
lieved, that altitude is harmful! Yet 
it has a thousand benefits for the 
visitor." 

Mr. Mills is at his best in his de- 
scription of the forest, for he loves and 
understands the trees as few are willing 
to do in this day of haste and neglect of 
true values. In a most poetical chapter 
on "The Spirit of the Forest," he ex- 
claims, "How happily trees have min- 
gled with our lives! . . . The trees 
are friends of mankind. . . . Trees 
have trials. They know what it 
is to struggle and grow strong. With 
hardship they build history, adventure, 



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Other Books Discussed 



pathos, and poetry. Every tree has a life 
full of incident." Possibly the tree that 
Mills loves most of all is the hemlock, 
steadfast of purpose, yet yearning in ap- 
peal, offering warm shelter alike to 
storm-driven man and to the people of 
the forest. Never is he more at home 
among the trees than on the mountains 
at ten or eleven thousand feet where 
the last outposts of the forest live in per- 
petual struggle with the winds and the 
storms. Diminutive and stunted of 
form but indomitable in courage they 
sometimes overcome the utmost difficul- 
ties of existence for centuries. Likewise 
the flowers at these altitudes, and on 
peaks of over fourteen thousand feet in 



the Rocky Mountains, are almost with- 
out stem and of unbelievable smallness. 
"Think of blue-bells perfectly formed 
and coloured and yet so fascinatingly 
small and dainty that a half-dozen could 
be sheltered in the upper half of a 
thimble!" 

The soul of Nature in its contribution 
to man is beautifully expressed as Mills 
exclaims, "One touch of forest nature 
makes the whole world kin. A tree is 
the flag of Nature, and forests give a 
universal feeling of goodwill. . . . 
Some time an immortal pine may 
be the flag of a united and peaceful 
world." 

LeRoy Jeffers. 



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Biography 



Domestic Science 



Jean Jaur6s, Socialist and Humanitarian. 
By Margaret Pease. With an introduc- 
tion by J. Ramsay Macdonald. New 
York: B. W. Hucbsch. $i.oo. 

Six chapters of appreciative study which 
do not aim to be exhaustive in treatment 

Hugo Grotius, the Father of the Modern 

Science of International Law. By 

Hamilton Vreeland, Jr. New York: 
Oxford University Press. 

A biography in twelve chapters, discuss- 
ing the jurist's life and work, not only as 
statesman and diplomatist, but as theo- 
logian, poet and historian. 

A Naturalist of. Souls. By Gamaliel Brad- 
ford. New York: Dodd, Mead & Com- 
pany. $2.5a 

An exposition of a new method of biog- 
raphy, the art of psychography, as it has 
developed during the author's work of the 
last twenty years; and an illustration of 
its progress with specimen portraits of 
Dumas, Trollope, Ovid, and others. 



Practical Food Economy. By Alice Gitchell 
Kirk. New York: Little, Brown & Com- 
pany. $1.25. 

An untechnical presentation of practical 
truths on economy in foods, balanced 
menus, and directions for buying, prepar- 
ing and cooking without waste. 

Cakes, Pastry and Dessert Dishes. By Janet 
M. Hill. New York: Little, Brown & 
Company. Illustrated. $1.50. 

A book of recipes in nine chapters. 



Drama 

Plots and Playwrights. By Edward Massey. 
New York: Little, Brown & Company. 
$1.00. 

A burlesque of a crook play, in which 
the characters of three episodes, that take 
place on different floors of an Eleventh 
Street lodging-house, take part 



William IL By S. C. Hammer. New York: 
Houghton Mifflin Company. $1.50. 

Nineteen chapters — a discussion of the 
character and career of the German Em- 
peror, judged on evidence of his own 
speeches and on writings of German con- 
temporaries. 

Goethe. By Calvin Thomas. New York: 
Henry Holt & Company. $2.00. 

An attempt to portray the larger 
aspects of the poet's mind, and art, and 
life-work: in two parts — biography, and 
studies and appreciations. 

The Life of Lyof N. Tolstoi. By Nathan 
Haskell Dole. New York: Thomas Y. 
Crowell Company. 75 cents. 

The biography of the Count, in five 
parts, with appendix. 



Easasrs 

The Young Idea. Compiled with an intro- 
ductory and concluding essay by Lloyd 
R. Morris. New York: Duffield & Com- 
pany. 

An anthology of opinion on the aims 
and tendencies of the American literature 
of to-day and to-morrow: the Empiricists, 
as John Erskine; the Romanticists, as John 
Gould Fletcher; the Idealists, as Joyce 
Kilmer; the Pessimists, as John Curtis 
Underwood; the Traditionalists, as 
Thomas Walsh. 



Take It. By George Matthew Adams. New 
York: Frederick A. Stokes Company. 
$1.00. 

Suggestions, in the form of short essays, 
as to your right in the world and ihe 
great things that are in it 



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Enchanted Cigarettes, or Stevenson Stories 
That Might Have Been. New York: 
Houghton Mifflin Company. Illustrated. 
50 cents. 

Read before llie Stevenson Society at its 
first annual meeting at Saranac Lake, New 
York, October 28, 1916; and illustrations, 
reproduced by courtesy of this society, 
from eighteen wood engravings made by 
Stevenson himself. 



Fiction 

Tlie ISoul of a Nation. By H. G. Wells. 
New York: The Macmillan Company. 
Frontispiece. $1.50. 

A novel showing the effect of the Great 
War on that bulwark of society, the 
Church. 

The Lookout Man. By B. M. Bower. New 
York: Little, Brown & Company. $1.35. 

A California story of a man who, after 
a boyish escapade, lives the life of a 
recluse on the mountain top. 

Mrs. Hope's Husband. By Gelett Burgess. 
New York: The Century Company. 
$iax>. 

A comedy dealing with the question : "Is 
a second love affair possible between mar- 
ried lovers?" 

The Other Brown. By Adele Luehrmann. 
New York: The Century Company. Il- 
lustrated. $1.35. 

A mystery story of a dual personality. 

The Friends. By 'Stacy Aumonier. New 
York: The Century Company. Frontis- 
piece. $1.00. 

The tide stonr— oripnally published in 
The Century ma^aztne— and two other 
short stories. 

The Conversion of Hamilton Wheeler. By 
Prescott Locke. Bloomington, Illinois: 
The Pandect Publishing Company. 

A voluntary contribution to the Na- 
tional Mental Hygiene Movement; a nov- 
elette of religion and love introducing 
studies in religious psychology and pa- 
thology. 

Four Days. The story of a War Marriage. 
By Hetty Hemenway. Boston: Little, 
Brown & Company. Frontispiece. 50 
cents. 

A story, first appearing in the Atlantic 
Monthly, of how England's manhood went 
to the ordeal. 



The Wages of Virtue. By Captain Percival 
C. Wren. New York: Frederick A. 
Stokes Company. $1.50. 
A novel of the Foreign Legion. 

Sunny Slopes. By Ethel Hueston. New York: 
The Bobbs-Merrill Company. Illus- 
trated. $1.40. 

A story of one woman's fight for her 
husband's life, and of another's struggle to 
keep from acquiring a lord and master. 

Kenny. By Leona Dalrymple. Chicago: 
Reilly & Britton. Illustrated. $1.35. 
The story of an Irish artist's eelf-sacri- 
fice. 

Understood Betsy. By Dorothy Canfield. 

New York: Henry Holt k Company. 

Illustrated. $1.30. 

The experiences of a sickly little girl 
in the first year of her development on a 
Vermont farm. 

Beyond. By John Galsworthy. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.50. 
The story of a woman's early unhappy 
marriage and later love. 

Day and Night. By Algernon Blackwood. 
New York: £. P. Dutton & Company. 
$1.50. 

A new collection of fifteen stories of a 
mystical character. 

Carmen's Messenger. By Harold Bindloss. 
New York: Frederick A. Stokes Com- 
pany. Frontispiece. $1.35. 
A story of a little wilderness town in 
the Canadian Northwest, in which two ro- 
mances are interwoven. 

Anne's House of Dreams. By L. M. Mont- 
gomery. New York: Frederick A. Stokes 
Company. Frontispiece. $1.40. 
A further record of the heroine's mar- . 
ried life in her house in "Four Winds 
Harbour." 

Amarilly in Love. Belle K. Miniates. New 
York: Little, Brown & Company. Illus- 
trations by William Van Dresser. $1.25. 
A chronicle of the later adventures of 
the Jenkins family. 

The Candid Courtship. By Madge Mears. 
New York: John Lane Company. $140. 
A feminist love story laid in a Highgate 
boarding-house. 

Winning His Army Blue, or The Honor 
Graduate. By Norman Brainerd. Bos- 
ton: Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Company. 
Illustrated. $1.25. 
The story of how an athlete in a mili- 



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tary boardiDg-school won his first laurels 
on the road to a commission in the United 
States army. 

The Broken Gate. By Emerson Hough. 
New York: D. Appleton & Company. 
Illustrated. $i.5a 

A story of broken social conventions, of 
a woman's determination to put the past 
behind her and to live above the criticism 
she meets everywhere, for the son she 
adores. 

My Wife. By Edward Burke. New York: 
E. P. Dutton & Company. $1.50. 

A humourist'3 treatment of the modern 
conventional family life in burlesque, cx,- 
hibiting the foibles and affectations of the 
"lord and master." 

His Dear Unintended. By J. Breckenridge 
Ellis. New York: The Macaulay Com- 
pany. $1.35. 

A whimsical story of a young girl who 
creates a sensation in a Middle Western 
village. 

The Golden Triangle. By Maurice Leblanc. 
New York: The Macaulay Company. 
Frontispiece. $1.35. 

Another of the author's detective stories, 
in which Arsine Lupin serves his country 
in the war crisis in France. 

Closed Lips. By George Vane (Visconde 
de Sarmento). New York: John Lane 
Company. $140. 

An English story of an unhappy mar- 
riage and an unfortunate love affair. 

Miss Haroun Al-Raschid. By Jessie Doug- 
las Kerruish. New York: George H. 
Doran Company. $1.50. 

A picturesque Oriental novel whose nar- 
rator is the moving spirit in this story of 
Asiatic Turkey. 

The Vendor of Dreams. By Julia H. Coffin. 
New York: Dodd, Mead ft Company. 
Illustrations in colour and decorations. 
$1.50. 

An allegory of an old man who vends 
his cargo of tales and incidents to pass- 
crsby. 

The Grim Thirteen. Edited by Frederick 
Stuart Greene. New York: Dodd, Mead 
& Company. $i.5a 

A collection of thirteen stories, printed 
for the first time, each by an author of 
promincoce and each rejected with praise 
by at least one first-clasa magazine; with 
introduction by Edward J. O'Brien. 



Patty Blossom. Fifteenth of the "Patty 
Books.'' By Carolyn Wells. New York: 
Dodd, Mead & Company. Illustrations. 

$1.25. 

A story for girls, in which the heroine, 
a coquette, makes up her mind. 

Sarah Ann. By Mabel Nelson Thurston. 
New York: Dodd, Mead k Company. 
Illustrated. $1.25. 

The Christmas story of a little slum 
mother, aged ten. 

Green Fancy. By George Barr McCutcheon. 
New York: Dodd, Mead & Company. 
Frontispiece in colour. $i.5a 

The story of the romantic adiventures 
of a New York engineer and clubman on 
a six-weeks' jaunt througfi New En^^land 
— in which figure a conspirator in mter- 
national affairs, an Irish adventurer, and 
a countess. 

The Shelleys of Georgia. By Beatrice York 
Houghton. Boston : Lothrop, Lee k Shep- 
ard Company. Illustrated. $1.35. 

A love story <d the South. 

Christine, a Fife Fisher Girl. By Amelia 
E. Barr. New York: D Appleton k 
Company. Frontispiece. $1.50. 

The ron&ance of a fisherman's daughter 
who decides between twa ]overs,-^a young 
fisherman and a young lord of the manor 
near by. 

Roderick Hudson. By Henry James. New 
York: Houghton Mifflin Company. $2.00. 

Revised and in part rewritten since its 
first publication in 1875. 

Cousin Julia. By Grace Hodgson Flandrau. 
New York: D. Appleton k Company. 
$1.40. 

A story of American family life, in 
which the wife of a Middle Western busi- 
ness man has social ambitions for two 
marriageable daughters with wills of their 
own. 

Alexis. By Stuart Maclean. New York: D. 
Appleton k Company. $1.50. 

A romance of the world of music: what 
music, love, and friendship of a man did 
for a gifted boy of alien parents. 

The Youth Plupy, or The Lad with the 
Downy ChiiL By Henry A. Shutt. New 
York: Houghtoa Mifflifi Gommnqfi. Il- 
lustrated. $1.35. 

A sequel to The IUmI Diarf &f a Real 
Boy, describing the vicissttudes of a boy 
during the awkward period. 



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The Triumph. By Will N. Harbcn. New 
York: Harper & Brothers. Frontispiece. 
$140. 

A story of loyalty — the struggle of the 
South during and after the Civil War. 



OflF With the Old Love. By Guy Fleming. 
New York: Longmans, Green & Com- 
pany. $1.50. 

An English story of literary adventure 
and the war. 



Wings of the Cardinal. By Bertha Crowell. 
New York: George H. Doran Company. 
$1.35. 

A story shifting from Texas to New 
York, and dealing with a woman's sacri- 
fice and attainment, through discipline, to 
love and happiness. 

The Spanish Chest By Edna A. Brown. 
Boston: Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Com- 
pany. Illustrated. $1.35. 

A story of the Island of Jersey, involv- 
ing ruined castles, caves, a secret stair, 
and a ghost. 

The Quest of Ledgar Dunstan. By Alfred 
Tresidder Sheppard. New York: D. Ap- 
pleton & Company. $1.50. 

The picture of a man in quest of him- 
self: his marriage, and his loss of his wife 
to another man through his own weakness. 

Treasure and Trouble Therewith. By Ger- 
aldine Bonner. New York: D. Apple- 
ton k Company. Illustrated. $1.50. 

A story of love, youth and adventure, 
beginning with a stage hold-up and com- 
prising the experience of a social pirate. 

The Secret Witness. By George Gibbs. 
New York: D. Appleton & Company. 
Illustrated. $1.50. 

A European war novel — a romance cen- 
tring about the series of events preceding 
the assassination of the Archduke and 
Archduchess. 

Schoolgirl Allies.- By Rebecca Middleton 
Samson. Boston: Lothrop, Lee & Shep- 
ard Company. Illustrated. $1.35. 

A story for girls, told by one of two 
American sisters in an aristocratic finish- 
ing school in Brussels. 

Dave Porter's Great Search, or The Perils 
of a Young Civil Engineer. Thirteen^ 
volume of the "Dave Porter Series." By 
Edward Stratemeyer. Boston: Lothrop, 
Lee & Shepard Company. Illustrated. 
$1.25. 

A search for two abducted girls carried 
on by two young civil engineers of Mon- 
tana. 



Salt of the Earth. By Mrs. Alfred Sidgwick. 
New York: W. J. Watt k Company. 
$140. 

A novel of realism in its war experi- 
ence and interpretation of the military 
caste of Germany. 

A Son of the Middle Border. By Hamlin 
Garland. New York: The Macmillan 
Company. Illustrated by Alice Barber 
Stephens. $1.60. 

The story of a typical American pioneer 
family on the Western frontier in the 
generation following the Civil War. 

Scandal. By Cosmo Hamilton. New York: 
Little, Brown k Company. Frontispiece. 
$i.5a 

The story of how a man "played up" 
to save a girl from scandal. 

The Flag. By Homer Greene. Philadel- 
phia: George W. Jacobs k Company. 
$1.25. 

A^ patriotic story of a schoolboy's dese- 
cration of the Stars and Stripes and of 
his atonement. 



General Literature 

William Dean Howells. By Alexander Har- 
vey. New York: B. W. Huebsch. $1.50. 

A study of the achievement of a literary 
artist: in sixteen chapters, some of which 
are, "The Howells Philosophy of Woman," 
"The 'Siss/ School of Literature," "A 
Study in Subtlety." 

Epics and Romances of the Middle Ages. 
By Dr. W. Wagner. New York: E. P. 
Dutton k Company. $2.00. 

The great epic cycles of the Middle 
Ages in simple narrative forn*^the Ame- 
lungs, the Nibelungs, the Grail Legends, 
and others, both Scandinavian and Teu- 
tonic. 

Asgard and the Gods. By Dr. W. Wagner. 
New York: E. P. Dutton k Company. 
$2.00. 

A popular account of the religious be- 
liefs, superstitions, and ancient customs of 
the old Northmen. 



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Juvenile 

The Adventures of Puss in Boots, Jr. Twi- 
light Tales. By David Cory. New 
York: Harper tc Brothers. Illustrated. 
50 cents. 

A story for children in which the hero 
falls in with many of the characters with 
whose stories all boys and girls are fa- 
miliar. 

Further Adventures of Puss in Boots. Twi- 
light Tales. By David Cory. New 
York: Harper tc Brothers. Illustrated. 
50 cents. 

A companion volume to The Adventures 
of Puss in Boots, Jr. 

The Treasure of the Land. How Alice Won 
Her Way. By Garrard Harris. New 
York: Harper & Brothers. Illustrated. 
$1.25. 

A story of success gained from the land 
by a girl and a boy. 

Children's Stories and How to Tell Them. 
J. Berg Esenwein and Marietta Stock- 
ard. Springfield, Massachusetts: The 
Home Correspondence School. $1.50. 

A complete manual for story-tellers, 
with fifty stories to tell to children. 

When I Was a Girl in Holland. By Cor- 
nelia De Groot. Ninth of "Children of 
Other Lands Books." Illustrated from 
photographs. 75 cents. 

A picture, from the author's experience, 
of a country in which children are trained 
to usefulness. 

The Village Pest. A Story of David. By 
Montgomery Rollins. Boston: Lothrop, 
Lee k Shepard Company. Illustrated. 
$1.35. 

A story of a boy's experiences in Wash- 
ington as the son of a Senator thirty-odd 
years ago. 

Little Billy 'Coon. By Elizabeth Hays Wil- 
kinson. New York: Dodd, Mead & 
Company. Illustrated by J. Woodman 
Thompson. %ijoo. 

A raccoon story for children, in ten 
chapters. 

Plucky Little Patsy. The new "Brick House 
Book." By Nina Rhoades. Boston: 
Lothrop, Lee k Shepard Company. Il- 
lustrated. $IXX). 

A story of a little gjrl who left a New 
York flat for an English manor-house. 



Miscellaneous 

More Power to You. Bruce Barton. New 
York: The Century Company. $1.00. 

Advice to young men and' women, on 
business as the greatest force for right- 
eousness, by the editor of Every Week. 

The United States Post Oflice. By Daniel 
C. Roper. New York: Funk k Wagnalls 
Company. Illustrated. $1.50. 

A^ historical and sociological study of 
the inception, growth, and present dimen- 
sions of the Post Oflice system of this coun- 
try, in thirty chapters. 

Flower Lore and Legend. By Katherine M. 
Beals. New York: Henry Holt & Com- 
pany. $1.25. 

A fanciful treatment of thirty-five dif- 
ferent flowers. 



Health First. The Fine Art of Living. By 
Henry Dwight Chapin, M.D. New 
York: The Century Company. 

An untechnical book in twelve chap- 
ters, by a professor in the New York Post- 
Graduate Medical School and Hospital. 

My Log. By Robert Barrie. Philadelphia: 
The Franklin Press. With sixty-seven 
illustrations. $2.00. 

Ten chapters of reminiscences of a man 
who knew old New York, Paris, Japan, 
and artists, actors, and financiers. 



Religion 

The Missionary Education of Juniors. B^ J. 
Gertrude Hutton. New York: Mission- 
ary Education Movement of the United 
States and Canada. 

In nine chapters: a handbook for 
leaders. 



Poetry 

The Shadowed Hour. By John Erskine. 
New York: The Lyric Publishing Com- 
pany. 75 cents. 

A collection of four poems, three of 
which are reprinted from magazines. 

Factories. By Margaret Widdemer. New 
York: Henry Holt k Company. $1.25. 

A new edition, with changes in the origi- 
nal text, and a number of new poems. 



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Readers^ Guide to Latest Books 



Portraits and Protests. By Sarah N. Cleg- 
horn. New York: Henry Holt & Com- 
pany. $1.25. 

Twelve 'Tortraits," fourteen "Of Coun- 
try Places and the Simple Heart,'' ten "Of 
Time and Immortality," fourteen "Pro- 
tests.'* 

In Greek Seas, and Other Poems of Travel. 
By OBwald H. Hardy. New York: John 
Lane Company. With two illustrations. 

A collection of seventeen noems, two of 
which have been reprinted. 

The Poems of Brian Brooke. (Korongo) 
With a foreword by M. P. Willcocks. 
New York: John Lane Company. Nine 
Illustrations. $1.25. 

A collection of thirty-four poems, most 
of which are reprinted from The Leader 
of South Africa. 

California and Other Verse. By Howard L. 
Terry. Santa Monica, California: The 
Palisades Press. 

A small volume of thirty poems, with a 
short prose sketch, "Joaquin Miller as I 
Saw Him." 

Songs of Hope. By Harold Speakman. New 
York: Thomas Y. Crowell Company. 
Decorations by the author. 75 cents. 

Ten poems with the theme of courage; 
some previously appearing in periodicals. 

The Newark Anniversary Poems. The Com- 
mittee of One Hundred. New York: 
Laurence J. Gomme. 

Winners in the poetry competition, with 
introductory chapters and a plan for a 
national anthology of American poetry, by 
Henry Wellington Wack, Editor of the 
Newarker, 



Politics 

Japan in World Politics. K. K. Kawakami. 
New York: The Macmillan Company. 
$1.50. 

An investigation of the friendship of 
America for Japan : and a consideration of 
their mutual interests in agreement. 



Science 

The Sense of Sight. By Frank N. Spindler, 
PhJ). Our Senses and What They 
Me«o to Us. Edited by Professor George 



Van Ness Dearborn. New York: Mof- 
fat, Yard & Company. $1.25. 

An effort to tell the story of Vision un- 
technically and yet with a basis of scien- 
tific facts and theories. 

Pain and Pleasure. By Henry T. Moore, 
Ph.D. Our Senses and What They 
Mean to Us. Edited by Professor George 
Van Ness Dearborn. New York: Mof- 
fat, Yard & Company. $1.25. 

An attempt to explain, untechnically, 
pleasure and pain as motives of behav- 
iour. 



Sociology 

The Youth and the Nation. By Harry H. 
Moore. New York: The Macmillan 
Company. Illustrated. $1.25. 

An attempt to arouse wholesome inter- 
est in young men concerning the modern 
social evils, and to suggest vocational op- 
portunities in the warfare against them. 

Mankind. Racial Values and the Racial 
Prospect. By Seth K. Humphrey. New 
York: Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.50. 

An untechnical study, based upon the 
accepted principles of die action of hered- 
ity and environment, and bearing upon 
questions of the day; a study of racial 
values as they affect civilisation and 
human progress according to their relation 
and combination. 

Professionalism and Originality. By F. H. 
Hayward, D.Litt., B.Sc. Chicago: Open 
Court Publishing Company. $i.7S* 

An attempt to ascertain and tabulate the 
signs or stigmata of the "professional" 
man and of the "original" man, with va- 
rious suggestions bearing on professional 
and national efficiency appended, and with 
some suggestions for national reconstruc- 
tion. 



Travel 

A Vagabond's Odyssey. By A. Safroni-Mid- 
dleton. New York: Dodd, Mead & Com- 
pany. With sixteen illustrations from 
photographs. $2.50. 

In twenty-seven chapters: the pleasant 
adventures, told in first person, of two 
travellers who worked their way around 
the world. 



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War 

Machine Gun Practice and Tactics. By 
Lieut K. B. McKellar, Canadian Ma- 
chine Gun Service. New York: The 
Macmillan Company. 90 cents. 

For officers, N. C. 0.*s and Men: 
methods of organisation of machine gun 
uaitB and die sequence of training set 
forth by a man who has been at the front 
the^ last three years instructing men for 
active service in the present war. 



Faith, War, and Policy. By Gilbert Murray. 
New York: Houghton Mifllin Company. 
$1.25. 

A collection of thirteen essays and ad- 
dresses on the European war. 

The H«UBe of Hohenzollern and the Haps- 
burg Monarchy. By Gustav Pollak. 
New York: The New York Evening 
Post Company. 

Seven papers originally published by the 
New York Evening Post Company. 



The National Budget System and American 
Finance. By Charles Wallace Collins. 
New York: The Macmillan Company. 
$1.25. 

An explanation of what the budget sys- 
tem is and what it implies: for the in- 
formation of the average citizen. 

My War Diary. By Mary King Wadding- 
ton. New York: Charles Scribner^s 
Sons. $1.50. 

Impressions of the war in its more inti- 
mate aspects — a chronicle of personal in- 
cidents. 

On the Right of the British Line. By Captain 
Gilbert Nobbs, LJI.B. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. $1.25. 

A first-hand account of a captain's life 
on the firing-line, and his subsequent ex- 
perience as prisoner of war. 

The Red Badge of Courage. By Stephen 
Crane. New York: D. Appleton k Com- 
pany. $1.00. 

An episode of the American Civil War ; 
new edition with portrait and preface. 



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THE BOOK MART 

The following is a list of the most popular new books in order of demand, as sold between the first 
of August and the first of September: 



FICTION 



cmr 

New York City 

Albany, N. Y 

Atlanta, Ga 


1ST ON List 
Christine 

Martie, the .Unconquered 
The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 
The Red Planet 
Christine 
Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Martie, the Unconquered 

The Red Planet 

The Long Lane's Turning 

The Red Planet 

The Road to Understanding 

The Light in the Clearing 

Changing Winds 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

Martie, the Unconquered 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Christine 

The Red Planet 
The Definite Object 

Paradise Auction 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

His Family 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Light in the Clearing 

The Red Planet 

The Hundredth Chance 

The Son of Tarzan 
The Light in the Clearing 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Definite Object 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

The Dark Star 

The Red Planet 


2D ON List 
Salt of the Earth 
The Red Planet 
Mr. Britling Sees It Through 
Summer 


Boston, Mass 


Boston, Mass 


Summer 


Baltimore, Md. 

Chicago, HI 


His Family 
Summer 


Cincinnati, Ohio 

Cleveland, Ohio 

Dallas, Texas 


The Road to Understanding 

The Hundredth Chance 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

His Family 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Slimmer 


Denver, Colo 


Des Moines, la 

Detroit, Mich 


Detroit, Mich 


Houston, Tex 


Indianapolis, Ind 

Kansas City, Mo..»« 

Louisville, Ky 


Summer 

The Definite Object 

Anne's House of Dreams 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Salt of the Earth 

Summer 

Anne's House of Dreams 

The Red Planet 

The Red Planet 

The Light in the Clearing 

Mistress Anne 

The Light in the Clearing 

Christine 

Summer 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 

Summer 

The Definite Object 

Mr. Britling Sees It Through 
The Dark Star 

Summer 


Milwaukee, Wis 

New Haven, Conn.... 

New Orleans, La 

Norfolk, Va 


Philadelphia, Pa 

Pittsburgh, Pa 

Portland, Ore 


Providence, R. I 

Rochester, N. Y 

San Antonio, Tex 

San Francisco, Cal.... 

Spokane, Wash. 

St Paul, Minn 


St Louis, Mo 

St Louis, Mo 

Tacoma, Wash 

Toledo, Ohio 


Utica,N.Y 


The Light in the Clearing 
In the Wilderness 
The Red Planet 
His Family 


Waco, Tex 

Washington, D. C 



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The Book Mart 

[Continued) 



223 



FICTION 



3D ON List 
The Red Planet 
Sunny Slopes 
Summer 

The Red Planet 
Understood Betsy 
The Definite Object 
The Red Planet 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Road to Understanding 
The Red Planet 
The Red Planet 
His Family 
The Straight Road 
Martie, the Unconquered 
His Family 

Bromley Neighborhood 
The Light in the Clearing 
A Son of the Middle Bor- 
der 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Martie, the Unconquered 

The Definite Object 
His Family 
Jerry of the Islands 
Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Yukon Trail 
Changing Winds 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Light in the Clearing 

The Secret of the Storm 

Country 
The Light in the Clearing 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Light in the Clearing 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Road to Understanding 
Bromley Neighborhood 
Mistress Anne 



4TH ON List 
Beyond 

The Lookout Man 
Christine 

The Cinema Murder 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Bab: A Sub-Deb . 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Changing Winds 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

His Family 

Mistress Anne 

Martie, the Unconquered 

Mistress Anne 

The Definite Object 

Road to Understanding 

Christine 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

The Dark Star 
The Red Planet 
Martie, the Unconquered 

The Definite Object 
The Light in the Clearing 

The Hundredth Chance 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Definite Object 
The American Ambassa 

dor 
Salt of the Earth 

The Triflers 

Anne's House of Dreams 

The Red Planet 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
Cinderella Jane 

Changing Winds 
Mr. Britling Sees It 
Through 

Bromley Neighborhood 

Christine 

I, Mary MacLane 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Martie, the Unconquered 



5TH ON List 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Carmen's Messenger 
Martie, the Unconquered 
Slippy McGee 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
The Road to Ambition 
His Family 

The Definite Object 

Beyond 

The Lifted Veil 

The Light in the Clearing 

Sunny Slopes 

Beyond 

The Red Planet 

The Light in the Clearing 

Understood Betsy 

Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The* Definite Object 
The Broken Gate 
Anne's House of Dreams 

Mistress Anne 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Lydia of the Pines 
The Hundredth Chance 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Bromley Neighborhood 

Christine 

The Dark Star 
Martie, the Unconquered 
The Definite Object 
Christine 

His Own Country 

The Trcloars 
His Family 

Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper 

His Family 

Summer 

His Family 

The Light in the Clearing 



6th on List 
His Family 

Where Your Treasure Is 
Out of a Clear Sky 
A Diversity of Creatures 
The Light in the Clearing 
Cinderella Jane 
The Secret of the Storm 

Country 
The Secret of the Storm 

Country 
The Definite Object 
The Definite Object 
The Yukon Trail 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Long Lane's Turning 
Summer 
Undertow 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 
Summer 

Beyond 

The Long Lane's Turning 

The Red Planet 

The Worn Doorstep 
Mr. Britling Sees It 

Through 
The Light in the Clearing 
The Definite Object 
Wildfire 
Beyond 

Bab: A Sub-Deb 

Susan Lenox 

Road to Understanding 

Wildfire 

A Diversity of Creatures 

In the Wilderness 

The Definite Object 
Bab: A Sub-Deb 

His Own Country 
Road to Understanding 
Martie, the Unconquered 
The Dark Forest 
Summer 



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224 



The Book Mart 



Books— NoN-FicnoN— ON Dbmand— from the Booksellers' Lists 



The Plattsburg Manual. O. O. Ellis and 

E. B. Garey. 
Rhymes of a Red Cross Man. R. W. Service. 
God the Invisible King. H. G. Wells. 
A Student in Arms. D. W. A. Hankey. 
Over the Top. Arthur Guy Empey. 



The Land of Deepening Shadow. Thomas 

Curtin. 
Laugh and Live. Douglas Fairbanks. 
The Living Present Gertrude Atherton. 
Carry On. Coningsby Dawson. 
Why We Are at War. Woodrow Wilson. 
The Battk of the Somme. Philip Gibbs. 
The Rebirth of Russia. Isaac F. Marcossoo. 



BEST SELLING BOOKS 

Prom the Hsts sent in by the booksellers i. The Red Planet. Locke. (John 

from the various cities (see charts^ pages Lane.) $1.50 ao« 

222 and 223) the six best-selling books 2. Mr. Britling Sees It Through. Wells. 

(fiction) are selected according to the fol- (MacmiHan.) $1.50 133 

lowing systvn: 3. The Light in the Cleaving. Bacheller. 

(Bobbs-Merrill.) $1.50 lai 

A book standing ist on any Hst receives 10 4- Bab: A Sub.peb. Rinehart (Hough- 

* ^ ton Mifflm.) $1.50 114 

MM M 2c| « M M M g 

MM M td " " " " 7 5- ^^^ Definite Object Farnol. (Litde, 

MM M ^ " " ** " \ Brown.) $1.50 JO^ 

" " " Stk " " " " 5 6. Martie, the Unoonquered. Norris. 

" « " ftk " " " " 4 (Doubleday, Page*) $1.50 98 



A Complete List of Books and Their Authors Mentioned in the Foregoing Reports 



Anne^s House of Dreams. Lucy M. Mont- 
gomery. 

The American Ambassador. L. Byrne. 

Bab: A Sub-Deb. Mary R. Rinehart. 

Beyond. John Galsworthy. 

Bromley Neighborhood. Alice Brown. 

The Broken Gate. Emerson Hough. 

Cap'n Abe, Storekeeper. James A. Cooper. 

Carmen's Messenger. Harold Bindloss. 

Carry On. Coningsby Dawson. 

Cecilia of the Pink Roses. K. H. Taylor. 

Changing Winds. St John G. Ervine. 

The Chosen People. Sidney L. Nyburg. 

Christine. Alice Cholmondeley. 

Cinderella Jane. Marjorie Benton Cooke. 

The Cinema Murder. E. Phillips Oppen- 
heim. 

Come Out of the Kitchen I Alice D. Miller. 

The Dark Forest Hugh Walpole. 

The Dark Star. Robert W. Chambers. 

The Definite Object JeflFery Farnol. 

A Diversity of Creatures. Rudyard Kipling. 

Enchantment. E. Temple Thurston. 

God the Invisible King. H. G. Wells. 

Germany, the Next Republic? Carl R. Ack- 
erman. 

Greenmantle. John Buchan. 

The Hand of Fu Manchu. Sax Rohmer. 

His Family. Ernest Poole. 

The Hundredth Chance. Ethel M. Dell. 

1, Mary MacLane. Mary MacLane. 

In the Wilderness. Robert Hichens. 

Jerry of the Islands. Jack London. 

The Land of Deepening Shadow. Thomas 
D. Curtin. 



Laugh and Live. Douglias Fairbanks. 

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A MAGAZINE OF LITERATURE AND LIFE 
NOVEMBER, 1917 

A DEMOCRATIC PEACE 

BY WILLIAM FORBES COOLEY 



"Let us be perfectly clear in our own 
minds/' President Lowell of Harvard to the 
National Safety Council. 

The New York City Socialist Organisa- 
tion has announced that it stands "abso- 
lutely with President Wilson in his con- 
tention for 'peace without victory,* " add- 
i'^gj "peace cannot come too soon to suit 
us." The prevailing opinion, however, 
is in strong opposition. It is expressed 
by the North American Review in its 
demand for Grant's historic terms at 
Fort Donelson, and its cry, "Away with 
Peace, peace when there is no peace! 
On with the fight for God and man!"* 
Even the discussion of peace upon other 
basis than that of victory is condemned, 
the usually judicially minded Taft call- 
ing upon his fellow-Unitarians to "stamp 
upon all proposals of peace as ill-advised 
or seditious." To like effect speaks Pro- 
fessor R. H. Dabney, in opposing Dr. 
Eliot's peace conference plan: "He has 
unintentionally given aid and comfort 
to the enemy of civilisation. Pro-Ger- 
mans, traitors, slackers, and shallow paci- 
fists, as well as the Germans themselves, 
will all rejoice that Dr. Eliot's potent 
voice is lifted in favour of peace without 
victory over Prussianism. His words 
will weaken the resolution of some 
Americans, and will strengthen the cour- 

• September, 19 17, p. 350. 
Vol. XLVI, No. 3 



age of the enemy. All such words will 
prolong the war, and cost the lives of 
Americans. For America ... is going 
to stay in the war until victory is won 
and genuine peace and safety are at- 
tained."t 

In the face of these insistent claims 
we seem to have special need of being 
"clear in our own minds." Two ques- 
tions arise: What do we mean by vic- 
tory? And what kind of peace move- 
ment is referred to? 

To any movement for a nierely Ameri- 
can or separate peace there are the most 
grave ethical objections. It would be 
playing the poltroon in the world trag- 
edy, and showing treachery to the cause 
of mankind in its hour of most desperate 
need. And it is true that even serious 
discussion of such a thing is hurtful; 
that "a double-minded man is unstable 
in all his ways," and that no one having 
put hand to the plough and looking 
back is fit for the domain of achievement. 
So long as we are at war, we must wage 
it with all our might and with utmost 
concentration of purpose. 

Against an international peace agita- 
tion, however, the same objections as- 

tCf. the words of ex-Premier Viviani in 
the French Chamber, after his return from 
America: "America has entered the war with 
the belief that there can be no peace without 
victory." 



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226 



A Democratic Peace 



su redly do not lie. Peace of the right 
kind is, of course, the goal of all the 
warring peoples; and it cannot be ulti- 
mately harmful to any legitimate na- 
tional interest* to inquire, on the one 
hand, what constitutes that right kind of 
peace, and, on the other, what possible 
steps, other than those of brute dicta- 
tion, there may be for obtaining it? 
Rather is it morally imperative upon us 
to keep the field of that inquiry open, 
lest we be accomplices in the crime of 
needless human slaughter and prevent- 
able desolations of heart; lest, also, we 
burden the future with an unnecessary 
weight of international enmity. As a 
matter of fact, is it more than a vehe- 
ment assumption that the only way out 
is to "attempt the Future's portal with 
the Past's blood-rusted key"? The fa- 
vourite warrant appealed to is the course 
of Lincoln in 1864. Certainly no pres- 
ent-day pacifist longs for peace more 
ardently than did that "kindly earnest, 
brave, foreseeing man" ; yet he would not 
consider a peace without victory. Ah, 
but the issue then was plainly different. 
In 1864 the very existence of the South- 
ern Confederacy was involved, and 
necessarily so. Either the Confederacy 
or the Union had to go down. Is that 
the situation to-day as regards Germany ? 
Most certainly not. That notion is pre- 
cisely one of the false claims of Prussian 
militarism which we must sedulously 
deny and disprove; for it is a reinforce- 
ment of Kaiserism's hold upon the suf- 
fering but blind German populace, and 
so a factor making for ruthless pro- 
longation of the conflict. 

Over against sheer militancy's assump- 
tion is to be placed the need of making 
our war aims clear to all — a matter of 
first importance in a just cause, and a 

'Chancellor Michaelis has, indeed, an- 
nounced to a committee of the Reichstag that 
a "public statement^' of the German war 
aims would "injure German interests" and 
"would contribute certainly to a prolongation 
of the war"; but no justification of the claim 
is given, and none suggests itself, except the 
all too probable one that what he calls 
"German interests" are opposed to human 
interests, that is, are not legitimate. 



matter calling for broad-minded and free 
discussion. Mere general disavowals of 
sinister intent are not sufficient. Diplo- 
macy has made insincerity almost the 
rule in international communications. 
We must declare and interpret and re- 
iterate our war aims, if we would have 
the enemy peoples even entertain the pos- 
sibility that they are not predatory. So 
different from our own is the German 
way of thinking in national affairs — a 
way modelled upon that of Frederick 
the Great and Trcitschke — that prin- 
ciples which have been rooted in our na- 
tional life for generations, and are sup- 
ported by our best thought, are now, 
when brought into the world discussion, 
summarily dismissed by German critics 
as evident hypocrisy. We need the dis- 
cussion, also, for ourselves, that we may 
keep our ideas clear and our purpose 
true. For human passion — ^and when is 
passion more active than in war time? — 
is perpetually clouding issues. We shall 
not think straight, if we do not pause 
occasionally and consider our aims and 
our acts with reference to world-wide 
interests. No mariner, having fixed his 
course, lashes his helm and thereafter de- 
votes himself exclusively to sail or en- 
gine. Moreover, our aims may need to 
be modified with the march of events 
New occasions do teach new duties. It 
is common for warring peoples to end 
with quite different aims from those with 
which they began, as was the case with 
us in 1898. Such modification of aims 
can be made wisely only after critical 
and candid discussion. 

And what opportunities for higher 
purposes and greater achievements in 
ethical civilisation arc now appearing on 
the horizon! It has been pointed out 
that rarely, if ever, has there been such 
an opportunity to realise the ethical radi- 
cal's wish, and, in the words of Omar 
Khayyam, shatter "this sorry scheme of 
things entire" and "remould it nearer to 
our heart's desire." To-day not only is 
the unprecedented conflict, with its far- 
reaching readjustments of political, eco- 
nomic, and other social relations, clear- 
ing away "the dead wood in our social 



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William Forbes Cooley 



227 



inheritance," but at last the understand- 
ing mind is present amid the fury and 
the change. The social consciousness of 
our day is a new thing in the earth. But 
the understanding mind must be awake 
and active. **Der Tag" of mankind, 
that finer "life of the nations on a new 
basis of justice" recently prophesied by 
the Russian Ambassador, will not be at- 
tained, if passion, however justifiable and 
even needful when of the right kind, 
excludes the activity of critical, fair- 
minded thought. In the birth throes of 
a new civilisation much assuredly will 
depend upon the midwife, Reason. Nor 
will it do for intelligence to wait until 
force has determined the issue. If preju- 
dice and partisan feeling have the field 
to themselves until the fighting is over, 
they will not then quietly yield it to 
reason. Ethical thought, charged with 
the interests of mankind, must be in the 
field before the end — alert, and ready 
to seize opportunity, which, as we have 
long been informed, has only a forelock 
and is bald behind. Of course, it will 
not do for intelligence to champion 
Utopias. Doctrinaire panaceas will 
only disgust the conservatives, increase 
opposition, and perhaps defeat the larger 
good altogether. This is the Scylla over 
against the Charybdis of the faineant 
mind. No; constructive thought must 
keep in touch with facts. It must seek 
to plant and develop rather than to 
manufacture — to bring about new forms 
of organised social life, forms which may 
be expected to grow with the new needs 
and new conditions of the future. 

The other question raised above was 
as to the meaning "victory" when in- 
sisted upon as indispensable. It is nat- 
ural to understand it as a triumph of 
arms over the German nation — the de- 
struction of its fighting power, so that 
it shall be forced to accept our terms. 
If that is the meaning, then to fight for 
victory merely, or mainly, is to fight for 
the very thing the Prussian junker is 
after, namely, tribal domination, and 
that is a barbarian rather than a civil- 
ised objective. Of course, victory in that 
sense is not our real end. At most it is 



an end sought by us as the only means 
of attaining the finer and more ethical 
end lying beyond it — the larger hirnian 
good, and that larger good discussion 
must make clear and keep clear. It is 
to be noted that the door for "peace 
without victory" (in this military sense) 
is still left open in the President's reply 
to the Pope, though it is true that a 
peremptory sentinel stands guard. 

Sometimes, however — indeed, often — 
the victory demanded is ideal rather than 
military — the victory of liberty over des- 
potism, of democracy over divine right, 
of self-governing peoples over a would- 
be master caste. In the opposition of 
principles involved in the statements of 
the late Professor Miinsterberg, on the 
one hand, that "In the German view 
the state is not for the individuals, but 
the individuals for the state," and of 
Mr. Wilson, on the other, that "The 
American people . . . believe that peace 
should rest upon the rights of peoples, 
not the rights of governments," — in this 
ideal conflict, it must be admitted, there 
can be no "peace without victory." Any 
settlement will be but temporary — a mere 
truce — so long as the principles of 
"macht-politik" dominate sixty-seven 
millions of capable, aggressive men and 
women. But why should it be assumed 
that the only field for decision for these 
conflicting ideas and ideals is the field of 
battle? Is force, then, so cogent intel- 
lectually? Or is it supposed that an 
idea defeated in battle is thenceforth 
dead? How exceedingly dead in that 
case should the idea of liberty bel As 
a matter of fact, ideas which "crushed 
to earth . . . rise again" are not limited 
to what we call "truth"; and, if only 
bayonets and bombs are appealed to, the 
idea that German welfare involves Ger- 
man domination may well be one of 
these. Indubitably the court of decision 
for truth is the court of reason. Facts, 
no doubt, are needful for the adjudica- 
tion, and sometimes facts which only the 
battle-field can supply; but the decision 
itself, if real, is always ip the domain of 
mind. 

Ex-President Eliot — ^like the Social- 



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228 



A Democratic Peace 



ists — ^has raised the question whether an 
international peace conference is not now 
possible, that is, whether the interna- 
tional discussion of conditions of peace 
may not be carried from the press to, 
say, the Peace Palace at The Hague. 
He would have each of the warring na- 
tions represented in such a conference 
by from two to four conferees, but not 
in any way committed to their words 
or acts, the appointees being entirely 
uninstructed. What would be the ad- 
vantages of this plan over that of jour- 
nalistic discussion? The disputants 
would apparently correspond very closely 
to "inspired" editorial writers. Would 
they be more likely to reach common 
ground in oral than in printed debate? 
When we consider the present bitterness 
of inter-belligerent feeling, this seems 
quite unlikely. It is an old observation 
that the tongue is "unruly," a "fire" 
kindling "the course of nature,'* whereas 
print is accounted "cold." With unre- 
stricted and uncontrolled conferees the 
chances of argument flaming into pas- 
sion instead of crystallising into rational 
agreement seem to be seriously increased. 
The peace palace might become a pande- 
monium! And what possible advantage 
offsets this risk? The agreements 
reached — should there be any — ^having 
no binding force, would seemingly be 
upon the same plane as those reached 
on the safer arena of press discussion. 

In the September issue of The Book- 
man an argument was presented by Mr. 
Carl H. P. Thurston for what he calls 
"A Legislated Peace." He, too, would 
have an international conference called 
at once, without waiting for the victory 
of either side, but he would substitute 
delegates for conferees ; that is, he would 
have the appointees empowered, under 
the control of their governments, to 
reach conclusions binding upon the na- 
tions represented. One merit in this 
plan is that, the appointees being legis- 
lators, their discussions might well be 
serious and rational. Responsibility 
makes strongly for sobriety in judgment 
and caution in word and act. Further- 
more, the value of the outcome sought — 



a binding international agreement — 
would fully justify the experiment. Per- 
haps, however, the most valuable feature 
of the scheme is the limitation of the dis- 
cussions — ^at least in the first and most 
important stage — to "certain principles 
by which all the questions in dispute 
might be resolved," principles to "be held 
valid for the future as well as the pres- 
ent." It does seem that even now prin- 
ciples of settlement might be discussed 
in a responsible conference; for princi- 
ples, being abstract, are not so inflamma- 
tory as concrete issues. And it is a happy 
thought that they should be discussed by 
themselves, that is, abstractly; for in 
concrete situations judgment regarding 
them is always more or less warped by 
private or partisan interest. Of course, 
the personal interest can never be elimi- 
nated altogether ; but the chances of some 
measure of agreement are increased when 
the issues are universalised, in accordance 
with the recognised rule of Immanuel 
Kant. 

I must dissent, however, when Mr. 
Thurston adds, that "the method of 
choosing delegates might profitably be 
left to the separate states." Earlier in 
his article he has condemned the pro- 
gramme of a "negotiated peace" as a 
"sordid trading across a mahogany 
table" — a trading by "diplomats" in the 
fortunes and destinies of unrepresented 
peoples. But if the states consult only 
their own pleasure in the choice of dele- 
gates, it is evident that the Central Pow- 
ers will be represented by mere govern- 
ment appointees, representatives of the 
master classes and not of the peoples 
themselves. In such a case, how would 
any conclusions agreed upon differ from 
those of a "negotiated peace," except in 
the fact that they were confined to prin- 
ciples and did not cover concrete mat- 
ters? And what would be the value of 
principles resting upon the concurrence 
of men who have been reared to re- 
gard diplomacy as the art of overreach- 
ing other nations? The Teutonic Pow- 
ers have acceded to the Pope's proposal 
of reduction of armaments and compul- 
sory arbitration, but Entente sentiment 



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William Forbes Cooley 



229 



is very little impressed thereby. It is 
regarded as but another case where "the 
devil was sick, the devil a monk would 
be." The Greeks of Central Europe 
arc distrusted even when bearing gifts, 
for they have shown in both diplomacy 
and war such facility in using profes- 
sions as masques, and in side-tracking ad- 
mirable principles in administration. 
What the world situation calls for is an 
intellectual coming together of the bel- 
ligerent peoples themselves. As the 
President has said: "The test ... of 
every plan of peace is this: Is it based 
upon the faith of all the peoples in- 
volved, or merely upon the word of an 
ambitious and intriguing government, on 
the one hand, and of a group of free 
peoples on the other?" Now, real ne- 
gotiation between the peoples can be ef- 
fected most speedily through a demo- 
cratically based international congress 
— 2i body of broad-minded, responsible 
men representing the popular legislative 
bodies of the nations concerned, con- 
vened with the avowed purpose of de- 
termining the main principles upon 
which the international settlement shall 
be made. Whatever agreements were 
reached by such a congress would be so , 
much real progress toward the restora- 
tion of reason to the throne in the af- 
fairs of mankind. Even in the case of 
irreconcilable differences it would be a 
gain to have them brought out into the 
light of criticism. Error is ever most 
mischievous and most incorrigible in the 
dark or in the lurid half lights of pas- 
sion. 

The objector will probably urge that 
whatever the advantages of such a con- 
gress, it is idle to agitate for it, because 
an unbeaten Germany will never par- 
ticipate in it. The thought of the Ger- 
man rulers being that the people exist 
only for the state, and that L'Etat, cest 
nous, to let the people determine through 
their chosen representatives the terms of 
peace would, from their point of view, 
be to surrender the very principle which 
makes the existence of Germany worth 
while. Consequently a democratic con- 
gress before a decisive defeat of the Ger- 



man arms is only another case of lunar 
politics. From this conclusion I must 
dissent. It cannot be an idle thing to 
set ourselves right with the conscience 
of mankind. At the least an earnest 
movement on the part of neutrals and 
the Entente Powers toward a peace 
democratically arranged and guaranteed 
would place the issue historically in such 
a clear light that after the war, when 
the heats of passion shall have subsided, 
the German people will hardly be able 
to avoid it. The fact that their rulers 
would not allow them a voice in mat- 
ters of life and death importance to 
them will assuredly make them more 
critical of the system under which they 
have lived and suffered and come to dis- 
aster, and will through reaction make 
them more accessible to modern ethical 
national ideals. 

But why should we assume that the 
democratic interest is dead in Germany? 
That it is obscured is evident enough; 
but that is due to the obsession, so dili- 
gently cultivated by Junkerism, that 
Germany's very existence is at stake. If 
there is a real, though repressed, interest 
in popular government in Germany, 
what would be more likely to dispel their 
delusion ; what more likely to disarm the 
Teutonic Junkers — and Entente jingoes, 
withal — than an appeal to join in 2 
democratic congress issued from some 
neutral source and responded to favour- 
ably by the belligerent free peoples? 
Surely it is a hard saying that a people 
who, in their calmer hours, are of un- 
surpassed mental capacity are now in- 
capable of being brought by any evi- 
dence to a reasonable outlook upon the 
world. Nor is it believable that the 
countrymen of Luther, Schiller, and 
Carl Schurz are too brutish to feel the 
ethical appeal of human welfare. 

It is evident, of course, that no En- 
tente government could call such a con- 
gress, for the German militarists would 
at once construe the call as a sign of 
weakness, and stiffen their aggression 
both in the field and at the council table. 
Least of all could the United States issue 
the call, for that to these same oppo- 



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A Democratic Peace 



nents would be pleading guilty to their 
insistent charge that we are "bluffing,"* 
and do not mean to fight wholeheart- 
edly — indeed, are incapable of doing so. 
But why should not the Pope make 
the needed advances? If it be thought 
that his first peace appeal indicated a 
leaning toward the Central Powers, it 
is to be remembered that at the outset 
such an attitude would be quite natural 
for him, and might well be unconscious. 
The Romanic Church has inherited from 
classic society like imperialistic assump- 
tions and ideals to those of the aristoc- 
racies of central Europe. But Benedict 
is by no means a mere traditionalist, and 
it is greatly to be hoped that he will see 
the reason for the failure of his first at- 
tempt, and — this time with adequate ap- 
preciation of the deep convictions and 
ethical aims of the free peoples — ^will ad- 
dress himself afresh to the truly Chris- 
tian task of bringing "peace upon earth." 
If, however, he is unable or unwilling 
to come into such sympathetic touch with 
the modern world, then one of the 
European neutrals — Switzerland or Hol- 
land — might well assume the honourable 
task. 

The topics to be considered in such a 
congress should be outlined in advance, 
and all the proceedings should be public 
and open to collateral discussion in the 
press of all nations. The field of the 
diplomatic gamester should be restricted 
to the utmost. Moreover, the topics 
should be practical, and not doctrinaire, 
and should be requisite to the supreme 
issue at hand — the making of a just and 
stable peace. That means that they 
should be prospective in their reference, 
and should take account of the past only 
so far as that may be needful to provide 
for the good of men in the present and 
future, and not at all for the satisfac- 
tion of feelings of revenge, tribal hos- 
tility, or even traditional morality. 
When the sound objective of human 
welfare is attained, the "eternal princi- 
ples of justice" — ^venerable phrase of 

*So recently Von Tirpitz to the Hungarian 
representatives: "American help is, and will 
remain, a mere bluff." 



vague import! — ^will doubtless be found 
to be in accord therewith. Nor should 
we and our allies enter the discussion in 
a dogmatic temper, assuming that our 
cherished ideas are necessarily the last 
and perfect description and programme 
of humanity's wellbeing. Rather must 
we take up the great discussion in a 
broad-minded ethical temper, with a 
readiness to make concessions and even 
sacrifices, when these are needful for 
the common good. 

The geographical question will, no 
doubt, come first, that being its rank in 
the popular interest, and in the Allied 
statement of peace terms. "Restitution" 
is the latter's catchword, a term offering 
various interpretations. Restitution of 
the status quo ante will not suffice, for 
that will not be accepted by the French 
or the Italians. Nor yet will the boun- 
daries of 1870 be acceptable. Indeed, 
the German justification of the rape of 
Alsace-Lorraine is that it was but a resti- 
tution of the old situation of some two 
hundred years before ;t a justification 
rather staggering to Americans since it 
gives Great Britain an even better claim 
to the United States 1 It is evident that 
♦ if the restitution idea is to result in more 
than a "sordid trading across a ma- 
hogany table," it must be qualified by 
some principle of popular referendum. 
No true people — one possessing a life, 
traditions, and ideals of its own — should 
be forced to accept a rule that is con- 
tinuously distasteful to it, no matter 
what technical justification for the 
"restitution" the past may offer. If this 
principle of the rightful primacy of the 
popular interest could be adopted by a 
world congress, a hopeful beginning 
would be made for an equitable, and 
therefore stable, adjustment of conflict- 
ing national claims. But even this evi- 
dently just principle needs interpretation. 
Does it mean that every people desirous 
of independence should have it, regard- 

fThe German apologist conveniently over- 
looks the fact that for centuries prior to 
Louis Quatorze, Alsace was the possession 
of the house of Austria, and not of any 
member of the present German Empire. 



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William Forbes Cooley 



231 



less of whether it can maintain that inde- 
pendence or not, and regardless, also, of 
the inconvenience or danger that the in- 
dependence may cause to other peoples? 
Sinn Feiners and many Bohemians will 
no doubt say, Yes, it means just that; 
but the answer is inconclusive. A na- 
tion which is actually dependent, politi- 
cally, upon other peoples cannot justly 
deny all political claims on their part. 
Duties and rights go together. It may 
be that the real rights of such a people 
are satisfied when home rule is accorded 
to it. 

A related question is that of the 
rights of peoples who are backward in 
development. We Americans in the past 
have nominally dealt with our Indian 
tribes as foreign nations, nations sover- 
eign and independent, with territories 
which were their exclusive possession. 
The system has worked ill, ill for the 
American good name and worse for the 
welfare of the aborigines. It is to be 
doubted if it has worked better in 
Africa or the British East Indies. In- 
deed, it would be hard to instance a case 
the earth around where this doctrinaire 
principle has worked to the advantage 
of backward peoples when thrown into 
contact with those which are advanced. 
The idea that the rights of all peoples, 
regardless of their ability to maintain 
them, or use them, or perhaps even un- 
derstand them, are identical is all that 
gives colour to the long-cherished charge 
of the Germans against the British of 
"crushing" weaker peoples. Certainly 
the "crushed" peoples have in the past 
three years shown a singular readiness 
to stand up for their alleged oppressors. 
It is the idea, too, which furnishes 
American critics oiF our Philippine 
policy with most of their arguments. 
The best examples of really helpful re- 
lations between advanced and backward 
peoples — Egypt, for instance — have been 
those cases where the duties of the 
stronger nation to the weaker have been 
honourably recognised, and the rights of 
supervision which go with such duties 
have been frankly exercised. Is it not 
time that international principle and 



policy should discard the misleading 
analogy covered by the words "nation" 
and "people," and should recognise ex* 
plicitly that the rights of a people in the 
sisterhood of nations are limited to such 
a degree and kind of self-government as 
it can maintain effectively and service- 
ably to itself and mankind, together with 
all such conditions of national and ra- 
cial development toward complete parity 
with its neighbours as international co- 
operation can provide? 

Connected with the geographical ques- 
tion is the important matter of the en- 
largement of the sphere of international 
control. The "freedom of the seas" ap- 
pears to have been mostly a phrase for 
partisan declamation,* yet the principle 
bears upon the peace settlement in two 
important ways. One of these is the fa- 
miliar, but not fully established, doctrine 
of the "open door" in all non-self-govern- 
ing over-seas possessions. Any nation 
exercising control over portions of the 
earth not mainly inhabited by its own 
citizens should be required to do so as 
the representative of the collective inter- 
ests of mankind, and the guardian of 
equal commercial rights with itself for 
all nations. Secondly, neither the Cen- 
tral nor the Entente Powers can afford 
to have the Turkish straits controlled 
after the war by their present enemies; 
and a "dictated peace" which left the 
Bosphorus and the Dardanelles so con- 
trolled would contain fertile seed of fu- 
ture conflict. International control is 
evidently the true solution. This, of 
course, would be a serious check to Ger- 
many's eastern ambitions ; and, if obliged 
to concede it, she may confidently be 
expected to demand that the artificial 
straits of Suez and* Panama should be 
internationalised likewise. And, indeed, 
why not? It is hard to see other than 
partisan reasons to the contrary, and 
partisan interests insisted upon to the 
detriment of other peoples will surely 
breed future trouble. Why should it 

'Reduced to its lowest terms the German 
demand seems to be that the indispensable 
naval defences which Great Britain has 
erected against a foreign attack should be 
removed by international agreement! 



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232 



A Democratic Peace 



not be established as an international 
principle, in the interest of world-wide 
human good, that all water-ways, 
whether natural or artificial, the use of 
which is requisite to the welfare of two 
or more peoples shall, upon the demand 
of one of these, be put under interna- 
tional control? 

The Entente call for "reparation" will 
probably be the one most hotly con- 
tested by Germany; yet it appears to 
spring from a sound principle. The 
new democracy of Russia has declared 
for "no indemnities," and the Pope has 
suggested that both sides drop the claim 
for reparation. This might well be 
good counsel, if only economic interests 
were at stake; for the Entente Powers 
could afford better to repair the desola- 
tions of Belgium, France, and Serbia 
themselves than to continue the war for 
a year or two longer. But it is not so; 
political and ethical interests are in- 
volved. Successful national depredation 
is an evil virus in the world. Germany 
would not have prepared for and exe- 
cuted her Jingis Khan undertaking of 
1914, if it had not been for her preda- 
tory success in 1870. Moreover, among 
the needful "guarantees" of peace in fu- 
ture must be placed an adequate realisa- 
tion on the part of the German people 
of the iniquity of the policy of "schreck- 
lichkeit." To seek that realisation by 
retaliation in kind would be too great 
an injury to civilisation and the moral 
sentiment of the world; it would be to 
take a long stride backward toward bar- 
barism. What more equitable way, then, 
is there of safeguarding the future mor- 
ally than that of bringing home to an 
erring people the evils of a barbarian 
policy by making them pay its judicially 
determined damages? 

This question of guarantees for the 



future, professedly desired by both sides, 
is evidently one of great difficulty. Mere 
treaties are broken reeds for safety — 
"scraps of paper" in the hour of stress. 
On national interests, not on mere prom- 
ises, must reliance be placed. In some 
way the peoples must be brought to see, 
what happily is the truth, that their real 
interests lie in co-operation and friendly 
rivalry in the arts of peace, not in over- 
reaching and robbery. Now, the recog- 
nition of this truth, and the establish- 
ment of national attitudes which shall 
put it into effect, seem to be possible (as 
in civil life) only under the protective 
guarantee of some international organ- 
isation equipped with power; that is, 
something in the nature of Mr. Taft*s 
"League to Enforce Peace." No people 
— not even the American— can properly 
allow the question of its safety to become 
secondary with it, can reasonably pass 
beyond the sword and revolver stage of 
development, unless that safety is suffi- 
ciently provided for, at least as regards 
sudden exigencies, by a world society. 
It is no^ enough to agree and proclaim, 
as should be agreed and proclaimed, that 
it is an international crime for a people 
to arise, thrust aside all judicial inquiry, 
and, on the plea that it has private in- 
formation that its neighbour is plotting 
its hurt, forthwith assail that neighbour 
and devastate her lands and cities. It 
is not enough, because too many peoples 
(like too many individuals) are still 
liable to criminal or crazy impulses. A 
democratic Peace Congress which shall 
meet the real world needs must, there- 
fore, commit the peoples it represents to 
the principle of a duly equipped peace 
league, a league which shall at least se- 
cure to each nation the protection of an 
arbitratment of reason before an ap- 
peal to arms is permitted. 



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THE ADVANCE OF ENGLISH POETRY 
IN THE TWENTIETH CENTURY 

BY WILLIAM LYON PHELPS 

PART II 

Stephen Phillips — his immediate success — influence of Strat ford-on- A von — his 
plays — a traditional poet — his realism, — fVilliam Watson — his unpromising start — 
his lament on the coldness of the age toward poetry — his Epigrams — "fVordsworth's 
Grave" — his eminence as a critic in verse — his anti-imperialism — his Song of Hate — 
his Byronic wit — his contempt for the "new' poetry. — Alfred Noyes — both literary 
and rhetorical — an orthodox poet — a singer — his democracy — his childlike imagina- 
tion — his sea-poems — "Drake" — his optimism — his religious faith, — A, E, Housman 
— his paganism and pessimism — his modernity — his originality — his lyrical power — 
war poems — Ludlow, 



The genius of Stephen Phillips was im- 
mediately recognised by London critics. 
When the thin volume, Poems, contain- 
ing "Marpessa," "Christ in Hades," and 
some lyrical pieces, appeared in 1897, it 
was greeted by a loud chorus of ap- 
proval, ceremoniously ratified by the be- 
stowal of the First Prize from the Brit- 
ish Academy. Some of the more distin- 
guished among his admirers asserted that 
the nobility, splendour, and beauty of 
his verse merited the adjective Miltonic. 
I remember that we Americans thought 
that the English critics had lost their 
heads, and we queried what they would 
say if we praised a new poet in the 
United States in any such fashion. But 
that was before we had seen the book; 
when we had once read it for ourselves, 
we felt no alarm for the safety of Mil- 
ton, but we knew that English Litera- 
ture had been enriched. Stephen Phil- 
lips is among the English poets. 

His career extended over the space of 
twenty-five years, from the first publica- 
tion of "Marpessa," in 1890, to his 
death on December 9, 19 15. He was 
born near the city of Oxford, July 
28, 1868. His father, the Rev. Dr. 
Stephen Phillips, still living, is Pre- 
centor of Peterborough Cathedral; his 
mother was related to Wordsworth. He 



was exposed to poetry germs at the age 
of eight, for in 1876 his father became 
Chaplain and Sub- Vicar at Stratford-on- 
Avon, and the boy attended the .Gram- 
mar School. Later he spent a year at 
Queens College, Cambridge, enough to 
give him the right to be enrolled in the 
long list of Cambridge poets. He went 
on the stage as a member of Frank Ben- 
son's company, and in his time played 
many parts, receiving on one occasion a 
curtain call as the Ghost in Hamlet. 
This experience — ^with the early Strat- 
ford inspiration — ^probably fired his am- 
bition to become a dramatist. George 
Alexander produced Paolo and Fran- 
cesca; Hirod was acted in London by 
Beerbohm Tree, and in America by 
William Faversham. Neither of these 
plays was a failure, but it is regrettable 
that he wrote for the stage at all. His 
genius was not adapted for drama, and 
the quality of his verse was not improved 
by the experiment, although all of his 
half-dozen pieces have occasional pas- 
sages of rare loveliness. His best play, 
Paolo and Francesca, suffers when com- 
pared either with Boker's or D'Annun- 
zio*s treatment of the old story. It lacks 
the stage-craft of the former, and the 
virility of the latter. 

Phillips was no pioneer: he followed 
the main tradition of English poetry, 
and must be counted among the legiti- 



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234 Advance of English Poetry in the'Twentieth Century 



mate heirs. At his best, he resembles 
Keats most of all; and none but a real 
poet could ever make us think of Keats. 
If he be condemned for not breaking 
new paths, we may remember the words 
of a wise man — "It is easier to differ 
from the great poets than it is to re- 
semble them." He loved to employ the 
standard five-foot measure that has done 
so much of the best work of English 
poetry. In "The Woman with the Dead 
Soul," he showed once more the musical 
possibilities latent in the heroic couplet, 
which Pope had used with such mo- 
notonous brilliance. In "Marpessa," he 
gave us blank verse of noble artistry. But 
he was far more than a mere technician. 
He fairly meets the test set by John 
Davidson. "In the poet the whole as- 
sembly of his being is harmonious; no 
organ is master; a diapason extends 
throughout the entire scale; his whole 
body, his whole soul, is rapt into the 
making of his poetry. . . . Poetry is the 
product of originality, of a first-hand ex- 
perience and observation of life, of a di- 
rect communion with men and women, 
with the seasons of the year, with day 
and night. The critic will therefore be 
well advised, if he have the good fortune 
to find something that seems to him 
poetry, to lay it out in the daylight and 
the moonlight, to take it into the street 
and the fields, to set against it his own 
experience and observation of life." 

One of the most severe tests of poetry 
that I know of is to read it aloud on the 
shore of an angry sea. Homer, Shake- 
speare, Milton gain in splendour with 
this accompaniment. 

With the words of John Davidson in 
mind, let us take two passages from 
"Marpessa," and measure one against the 
atmosphere of day and night, and the 
other against homely human experience. 
Although Mr. Davidson was not think- 
ing of Phillips, I believe he would have 
admitted the validity of this verse. 

From the dark 
The floating smell of flowers invisible, 
The mystic yearning of the garden wet. 
The moonless-passing night — into his brain 



Wandered, until he rose and outward leaned 
In the dim summer: 'twas the moment deep 
When we are conscious of the secret dawn, 
Amid the darkness that we feel is green. . . . 
When the long day that glideth without 

cloud, 
The summer day, was at her deep blue hour 
Of lilies musical with busy bliss. 
Whose very light trembled as with excess. 
And heat was frail, and every bush and 

flower 
Was drooping in the glory overcome; 

Any poet knows how to speak in au- 
thentic tones of the wild passion of in- 
surgent hearts; but not every poet pos- 
sesses the rarer gift of setting the 
mellower years to harmonious music, as 
in the following gracious words: 

But if I live with Idas, then we two 

On the low earth shall prosper hand in hand 

In odours of the open field, and live 

In peaceful noises of the farm, and watch 

The pastoral fields burned by the setting 

sun. . . . 
And though the first sweet sting of love be 

past, 
The sweet that almost venom is; though 

youth. 
With tender and extravagant delight, 
The first and secret kiss by twilight hedge, 
The insane farewell repeated o'er and o'er. 
Pass off; there shall succeed a faithful 

peace ; 
Beautiful friendship* tried by sun and wind, 
Durable from the daily dust of life. 
And though with sadder, still with kinder 

eyes, 
We shall behold all frailties, we shall haste 
To pardon, and with mellowing minds to 

bless. 
Then though we must grow old, we shall 

grow old 
Together, and he shall not greatly miss 
My bloom faded, and waning light of eyes, 
Too deeply gazed in ever to seem dim; 
Nor shall we murmur at, nor much regret 
The years that gently bend us to the ground. 
And gradually incline our face; that we 
Leisurely stooping, and with each slow step. 
May curiously inspect our lasting home. 
But we shall sit with luminous holy smiles. 
Endeared by many griefs, by many a jest, 



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William Lyon Phelps 



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And custom sweet of living side by side; 
And full of memories not unkindly glance 
Upon each other. Last, we shall descend 
Into the natural ground — not without tears — 
One must go first, ah God! one must go 

first ; 
After so long one blow for both were good ; 
Still like old friends, glad to have met, and 

leave 
Behind a wholesome memory on the earth. 

Although "Marpessa"* and "Christ in 
Hades" are subjects naturally adapted 
for poetic treatment, Phillips did not 
hesitate to try his art on material less 
malleable. In some of his poems we find 
a realism as honest and clear-sighted as 
that of Crabbe or Masefield. In "The 
Woman with the Dead Soul" and "The 
Wife" we have naturalism elevated 
into poetry. He could make a London 
night as mystical as a moonlit meadow. 
And in a brief couplet he has given to 
one of the most familiar of metropoli- 
tan spectacles a pretty touch of imagina- 
tion. The traffic policeman becomes a 
musician. 

The constable with lifted hand 
Conducting the orchestral Strand. 

Stephen Phillips's second volume of 
collected verse. New Poems (1907), 
came ten years after the first, and was 
to me a most agreeable surprise. His de- 
votion to the drama made me fear that 
he had burned himself out in the Poems 
of 1897; l^ut the later book is as unmis- 
takably the work of a poet as was the 
earlier. The mystical communion with 
nature is expressed with authority in 
such poems as "After Rain," "Thoughts 
at Sunrise," "Thoughts at Noon." In- 
deed the first-named distinctly harks 
back to that transcendental mystic of the 
seventeenth century, the wonderful 
Henry Vaughan. The greatest triumph 
in the whole volume comes where we 
should least expect it, in the eulogy on 
Gladstone. The worst poetry in the 

•It is perhaps worth recording that "Mar- 
pcssa," a tone-poem for orchestra and tenor, 
by Howard D. Barlow, in which the text 
is a portion of Phillips's poem, had its first 
performance at Bay View, Michigan, Au- 
gust 16, 1917. 



world is ever to be found among epi- 
taphs. The village poets have added 
new terrors to Death. Even the most 
sure-footed bards often miss their path 
in the Dark Valley. Yet in these seven 
stanzas on the Old Parliamentary Hand 
there is not a single weak line, not a 
single false note; word placed on word 
grows steadily into a column of majestic 
beauty. 

This poem is all the more refreshing 
because admiration for Gladstone had 
become unfashionable; his work was be- 
littled, his motives befouled, his clear 
mentality discounted by thousands of 
pygmy politicians and journalistic gnats. 
The poet, with a poet's love for moun- 
tains, turns the powerful light of his 
genius on the old giant; the mists dis- 
appear; and we see again a form vener- 
able and august. 

The saint and poet dwell apart; but thou 
Wast holy in the furious press of men. 
And choral in the central rush of life. 
Yet didst thou love old branches and a book. 
And Roman verses on an English lawn. . . . 

Yet not for all thy breathing charm remote. 
Nor breach tremendous in the forts of Hell, 
Not for these things we praise thee, though 

these things 
Are much; but more, because thou didst 

discern 
In temporal policy the eternal will; 

Thou gav'st to party strife the epic note, 
And to debate the thunder of the Lord; 
To meanest issues fire of the Most High. 

II 

William Watson, a Yorkshireman by 
birth and ancestry, was bom on 
August 2, 1858. His first volume. 
The Prince's Quest, appeared in 1880. 
Seldom has a true poet made a more un- 
promising start, or given so little indi- 
cation, not only of the flame of genius, 
but of the power of thought. No twen- 
tieth century English poet has a stronger, 
richer personality than William Watson. 
There is not the slightest tang of it in 
The Prince's Quest, This long, ram- 
bling romance, in ten sections, is as de- 



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236 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



void of flavour as a five-finger exercise. 
It is more than objective — it is somnam- 
bulistic. It contains hardly any notable 
lines, and hardly any bad lines. Al- 
though quite dull, it never deviates into 
prose — it is always somehow poetical, 
without ever becoming poetry. It is 
written in the heroic couplet, written 
with a fatal fluency; not good enough 
and not bad enough to be interesting. 
It is like the student's theme, which was 
returned to him without corrections, yet 
with a low mark; and in reply to the 
student's resentful question, "Why did 
you not correct my faults, if you thought 
meanly of my work?" the teacher replied 
wearily, "Your theme has no faults; it 
is distinguished by a lack of merit." 

In The Princes Quest, Mr. Watson 
exhibited a rather remarkable command 
of a barren technique. He had neither 
thoughts that breathe, nor words that 
burn. He had one or two unusual 
words — his only indication of immatur- 
ity in style — ^like "wox" and "him- 
seemed." (Why is it that when 
"herseemed," as used by Rossetti, is so 
beautiful, "himseemed" should be so irri- 
tating?) But aside from a very few 
specimens, the poem is as free from affec- 
tations as it is from passion. When we 
remember the amazing faults and the 
amazing splendours of Pauline, it seems 
incredible that a young poet could write 
so many pages without stumbling and 
without soaring; that he could produce 
a finished work of mediocrity. I suppose 
that those who read the poem in 1880 
felt quite sure that its author would 
never scale the heights; and they were 
wrong; because William Watson really 
has the divine gift, and is one of the 
most deservedly eminent among living 
poets. 

It is only fair to add that in the edi- 
tion of his works in 1898, The Prince's 
Quest did not appear; he was per- 
suaded, however, to include it in the two- 
volume edition of 1905, where it enjoys 
considerable revision, "wox" becoming 
normal, and "himseemed" becoming dis- 
syllabic. For my part, I am glad that 
it has now been definitely retained. It 



is important in the study of a poet's 
development. It would seem that the 
William Watson of the last twenty- 
five years, a fiery, eager, sensitive man, 
with a burning passion to express him- 
self on moral and political ideas, learned 
the mastery of his art before he had any- 
thing to say. 

Perhaps, being a thoroughly honest 
craftsman, he felt that he ought to keep 
his thoughts to himself until he knew 
how to express them. After proving it 
on an impersonal romance, he was then 
ready to speak his mind. No poet has 
ever spoken his mind more plainly. 

In an interesting address, delivered in 
various cities in the United States, and 
published in 191 3, called The Poefs 
Place in the Scheme of Life, Mr. Wat- 
son said, "Since my arrival on these 
shores I have been told that here also the 
public interest in poetry is visibly on the 
wane." Now whoever told him that 
was mistaken. The public interest in 
poetry and in poets has visibly "wox," to 
use Mr. Watson's word. It is always 
true that a profoundly original genius, 
like Browning, like Ibsen, like Wagner, 
must wait some time for public recog- 
nition, although these three all lived long 
enough to receive not only appreciation, 
but idolatry; but the "reading public" 
has no difficulty in recognising imme- 
diately first-rate work when it is pro- 
duced in the familiar forms of art. In 
the Preface that preceded his printed 
lecture, Mr. Watson complained with 
some natural resentment, though with 
no petulance, that his poem "King 
Alfred," starred as it was from the old 
armories of literature, received scarcely 
any critical comment, and attracted no 
attention. But the reason is plain 
enough — "King Alfred," as a whole, is 
an exceedingly dull poem,, and is there- 
fore not in the least provocative of eager 
discussion. The critics and the public 
rose in reverence before "Wordsworth's 
Grave," because it is a noble work of art. 
Its author did not have to tell us of its 
beauty — it was as clear as a cathedral. 

I do not agree with Mr. Watson or 
with Mr. Mackaye, that real poets arc 



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William Lyon Phelps 



237 



speaking to deaf ears, or that they should 
be stimulated by forced attention. I 
once heard Percy Mackaye make an 
eloquent and high-minded address, 
where, if my memory serves me rightly, 
he advocated something like a stipend 
for young poets. A distinguished old 
man in the audience, now with God, 
whispered audibly, "What most of them 
need is hanging!" I do not think they 
should be rewarded either by cash or the 
gallows. Let them make their way, and 
if they have genius, the public will find 
it out. If all they have is talent, and 
no means to support it, poetry had better 
become their avocation. 

Mr. Watson has expressly disclaimed 
that in his lecture he was lamenting 
merely "the insufficient praise bestowed 
upon living poets." It is certainly true 
that most poets cannot live by the sale 
of their works. Is this especially the 
fault of our age? is it the fault of our 
poets? is it a fault in human nature? 
Mr. Watson said, "Yet I am bound to 
admit that this need for the poet is felt 
by but few persons in our day. With 
one exception there is not a single living 
English poet the sales of whose poems 
would not have been thought contempti- 
ble by Scott and Byron. The exception 
is, of course, that apostle of British im- 
perialism — that vehement and voluble 
glorifier of Britannic ideals, whom I 
dare say you will readily identify from 
my brief, and, I hope, not disparaging 
description of him. With that one bril- 
liant and salient exception, England's 
living singers succeed in reaching only a 
pitifully small audience." In comment- 
ing on this passage, we ought to remem- 
ber that Scott and Byron were colossal 
figures, so big that no eye could miss 
them; and that the reason why Kipling 
has enjoyed substantial rewards is not 
because of his political views, nor because 
of his glorification of the British Empire, 
but simply because of his literary genius. 
He is a brilliant and salient exception 
to the common run of poets, not merely 
in royalties, but in creative power. Fur- 
thermore, shortly after this lecture was 
delivered, Alfred Noyes and then John 



Masefield passed from city to city in 
America in a veritable march of tri- 
umph. Mr. Gibson and Mr. De La 
Mare received homage everywhere; 
"Riley day" is now a legal holiday in 
Indiana; Rupert Brooke has been can- 
onised. 

Mr. Watson is surely in error when 
he offers "his poetical contemporaries in 
England" his "most sincere condolences 
on the hard fate which condemned them 
to be born there at all in the latter part 
of the nineteenth century." But he is 
not mistaken in wishing that more peo- 
ple everywhere were appreciative of true 
poetry. I wish this with all my heart, 
not so much for the poet's sake, as for 
that of the people. But the chosen 
spirits are not rarer in our time than 
formerly. The fault is in human na- 
ture. Material blessings are instantly 
appreciated by every man, woman, and 
child, and by all the animals. For one 
person who knows the joys of listening 
to music, or looking at pictures, or read- 
ing poetry, there are a hundred thou- 
sand who know only the joys of food, 
clothing, shelter. Spiritual delights are 
not so immediately apparent as the grati- 
fication of physical desires. Perhaps if 
they were, man's growth would stop. 
As Browning says. 

While were it so with the soul, — this gift 

of truth 
Once grasped, were this our soul's gain safe, 

and sur: 
To prosper as the body's gain is wont, — 
Why, man's probation would conclude, his 

earth 
Crumble; for he both reasons and decides. 
Weighs first, then chooses: will he give up 

fire 
For gold or purple once he knows its worth? 
Could he give Christ up were his worth as 

plain? 
Therefore, I say, to test man, the proofs'^ 

shift, 
Nor may he grasp that fact like other fact, 
And straightway in his life acknowledge it, 
As, say, the indubitable bliss of fire. 

One of the greatest functions of the 
poet is to awaken men and women to the 



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238 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



knowledge of the delights of the mind, 
to give them abundant life instead of a 
humdrum existence. As Mr. Watson 
nobly expresses it, the aim of the poet 
"is to keep fresh within us our often 
flagging sense of life's greatness and 
grandeur." We can exist on food; but 
we cannot live without our poets, who 
lift us to higher planes of thought and 
feeling. The poetry of William Watson 
has done this inestimable service for us 
again and again. 

In 1884 appeared Epigrams of Art, 
Life, and Nature. I do not think these 
have been sufficiently admired. As an 
epigrammatist Mr. Watson has no rival 
in Victorian or in contemporary verse. 
The epigram is a quite definite form of 
art, especially cultivated by the poets 
in the first half of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. Their formula was the terse ex- 
pression of obscene thoughts. Mr. Wat- 
son excels the best of them in wit, con- 
cision, and grace; it is needless to say 
he makes no attempt to rival them as a 
garbage-collector. Of the large number 
of epigrams that he has contributed to 
English literature, I find the majority 
not only interesting, but richly stimulat- 
ing. This one ought to please Mr. H. 
G.Wells: 

When whelmed are altar, priest, and creed; 

When all the faiths have passed; 
Perhaps, from darkening incense freed, 

God may emerge at last. 

This one, despite its subject, is far above 
doggerel : 

His friends he loved. His direst earthly 
foes — 
Cats — I believe he did but feign to hate. 
My hand will miss the insinuated nose, 
Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt 
at fate. 

But his best epigrams are on purely lit- 
erary themes : 

Your Marlowe's page I close, my Shake- 
speare's ope. 
How welcome — after gong and cymbal's 
din — 
The continuity, the long slow slope 
And vast curves of the gradual violin! 



With the publication in 1890 of his 
masterpiece, "Wordsworth's Grave," 
William Watson came into his own. 
This is worthy of the man it honours, 
and what higher praise could be given? 
It is distinctly superior, both in penetra- 
tion and in beauty, to Matthew Arnold's 
famous "Memorial Verses." Indeed, in 
the art of writing profound and subtle 
literary criticism in rh5rthmical lan- 
guage that is itself high and pure 
poetry, Mr. Watson is unapproachable 
by any of his contemporaries, and I do 
not know of any poet in English litera- 
ture who has surpassed him. This is his 
specialty, this is his clearest title to per- 
manent fame. And although his criti- 
cism is so valuable, when employed on 
a sympathetic theme, that he must be 
ranked among our foremost modern in- 
terpreters of literature, his style in ex- 
pressing it could not possibly be trans- 
lated into prose, a sure test of its poetical 
greatness. In his noble "Apologia" he 
says 

I have full oft 
In singers' selves found me a theme of song. 
Holding these also to be very part 
Of Nature's greatness, and accounting not 
Their descants least heroical of deeds. 

The poem "Wordsworth's Grave" not 
only expresses, as no one else has ex- 
pressed, the supreme quality of Words- 
worth's genius, but in single lines as- 
signed to each, the same service is done 
for Milton, Shakespeare, Shelley, Cole- 
ridge, and Byron. This is a matchless 
illustration of the kind of criticism that 
is in itself genius; for we may quarrel 
writh Mr. Spingarn as much as we please 
on his general dogmatic principle of the 
identity of genius and taste; here we 
have so admirable an example of what 
he means by creative criticism, that it is 
a pity he did not think of it himself. 
"For it still remains true," says Mr. 
Spingarn, "that the aesthetic critic, in his 
moments of highest power, rises to 
heights where he is at one with the 
creator whom he is interpreting. At 
that moment criticism and 'creation' are 
one." 



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All great poets have the power of noble 
indignation, a divine wrath against 
wickedness in high places. The poets, 
like tfie prophets of old, pour out their 
irrepressible fury against what they be- 
lieve to be cruelty and oppression. Mil- 
ton's magnificent Piedmont sonnet is a 
glorious roar of righteous rage; and 
since his time the poets have ever been 
the spokesmen for the insulted and in- 
jured. Robert Burns, more than most 
statesmen, helped to make the world safe 
for democracy. I do not know what 
humanity would do without its poets — 
they are the champions of the individ- 
ual against the tyranny of power, the 
cruel selfishness of kings, and the artifi- 
cial conventions of society. We may or 
may not agree with Mr. Watson's anti- 
imperialistic sentiments as expressed in 
the early days of our century; he him- 
self, like most of us, has changed his 
mind on many subjects since the out- 
break of the world-war, and unless he 
ceases to develop, will probably change 
it many times in the future. But what- 
ever our opinions, we cannot help ad- 
miring lines like these, published in 
1897: 

HOW WEARY IS OUR HEART 

Of kings and courts; of kingly, courtly ways 
In which the life of man is bought and sold ; 
How weary is our heart these many days! 

Of ceremonious embassies that hold 
Parley with Hell in fine and silken phrase, 
How weary is our heart these many days! 

Of wavering counsellors neither hot nor 

cold, 
Whom from His mouth God speweth, be it 

told 
How weary is our heart these many days! 

Yea, for the ravelled night is round the 

lands, 
And sick are we of all the imperial story. 
The tramp of Power, and its long trail of 

pain; 
The mighty brows in meanest arts grown 

hoary; ^ 

The mighty hands, 



That in the dear, affronted name of Peace 
Bind down a people to be racked and slain; 
The emulous armies waxing without cease. 
All-puissant all in vain; 
The pacts and leagues to murder by delays, 
And the dumb throngs that on the deaf 

thrones gaze; 
The common loveless lust of territory; 
The lips that only babble of their mart. 
While to the night the shrieking hamlets 

blaze ; 
The bought allegiance, and the purchased 

praise. 
False honour, and shameful glory; — 
Of all the evil whereof this is part, 
How weary is our heart, 
How weary is our heart these many days! 

Another poem I cite in full, not for 
its power and beauty, but as a curiosity. 
I do not think it has been remembered 
that in the New Poems of 1909 Mr. 
Watson published a poem of Hate some 
years before the Teutonic hymn became 
famous. It is worth reading again, be- 
cause it so exactly expressed the cold 
reserve of the Anglo-Saxon, in contrast 
with the overflowing sentimentality of 
the German. There is, of course, no 
indication that its author had Germany 
in mind. 

HATE 

(To certain foreign detractors) 
Sirs, if the truth must needs be told. 
We love not you that rail and scold ; 
And, yet, my masters, you may wait 
Till the Greek Calends for our hate. 

No spendthrifts of our hate are we; 
Our hate is used with husbandry. 
We hold our hate too choice a thing 
For light and careless lavishing. 

We cannot, dare not, make it cheap! 
For holy uses will we keep 
A thing so pure, a thing so great 
As Heaven's benignant gift of hate. 

Is there no ancient, sceptred Wrong? 
No torturing Power, enduied too long? 
Yea; and for these our hatred shall 
Be cloistered and kept virginal. 



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240 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



He found occasion to draw from his 
cold storage of hate much sooner than he 
had anticipated. Being a convinced 
anti-imperialist, and having not a spark 
of antagonism to Germany, the early 
days of August, 19 14, shocked no one 
in the world more than him. But after 
the first maze of bewilderment and hor- 
ror, he drew his pen against the Kaiser 
in holy wrath. Most of his war poems 
have been collected in the little volume 
The Man Who Saw, published in the 
summer of 191 7. He has now at all 
events one satisfaction, that of being in 
absolute harmony with the national sen- 
timent. In his Preface, after comment- 
ing on the pain he had suffered in times 
past in finding himself in opposition to 
the majority of his countrymen, he man- 
fully says, "During the present war, with 
all its agonies and horrors, he has had 
at any rate the one private satisfaction 
of feeling not even the most momentary 
doubt or misgiving as to the perfect 
righteousness of his country's cause. 
There is nothing on earth of which he 
is more certain than that this Empire, 
throughout this supreme ordeal, has 
shaped her course by the light of purest 
duty." The volume opens with a fine 
tribute to Mr. Lloyd-George, "the man 
who saw," and "The Kaiser's Dirge" is a 
savage malediction. The poems in this 
book—of decidedly unequal merit — have 
the fire of indignation if not always the 
flame of inspiration. Taken as a whole, 
they are more interesting psychologi- 
cally than as a contribution to English 
verse. We sympathise with the author's 
feelings, and admire his sincerity; 
but his reputation as a poet is not 
heightened overmuch. Perhaps the best 
poem in the collection is "The Yellow 
Pansy," accompanied with Shake- 
speare's line, "There's pansies — that's 
for thoughts." 

Winter had swooped, a lean and hungry 
hawk; 
It seemed an age since summer was en- 
tombed ; 
Yet in our garden, on its frozen stalk, 
A yellow pansy bloomed. 



'Twas Nature saying by trope and metaphor : 
''Behold, when empire against empire 
strives, 
Though all else perish, ground 'neatly iron 
war. 
The golden thought survives." 

Although, with the exception of his 
marriage and travels in America, Mr. 
Watson's verse tells us little of the facts 
of his life, few poets have ever revealed 
more of the history of their mind. What 
manner of man he is we know without 
waiting for the publication of his inti- 
mate correspondence. It is fortunate for 
his temperament, that combined with an 
almost morbid sensitiveness, he has 
something of Byron's power of hitting 
back. His numerous volumes contain 
many verses scoring off adverse critics, 
upon whom he exercises a sword of 
satire not always to be found among a 
poet's weapons; which exercise seems to 
give him both relief and delight. Apart 
from these thrusts edged with personal 
bitterness, William Watson possesses a 
rarely used vein of ironical wit that im- 
mediately recalls Byron, who might him- 
self have written some of the stanzas in 
"The Eloping Angels." Faust requests 
Mephisto to procure for them both ad- 
mission into heaven for half-an-hour : 

To whom Mephisto: "Ah, you underrate 
The hazards and the dangers, my good Sir. 

Peter is stony as his name; the gate. 
Excepting to invited guests, won't stir. 

'Tis long since he and I were intimate; 
We differed; — ^but to bygones why refer? 

Still, there are windows; if a peep through 
these 

Would serve your turn, we'll start whene'er 
you please. . . ." 

So Faust and his companion entered, by 
The window, the abodes where seraphs 
dwell. 
"Already morning quickens in the sky, 
And soon will sound the heavenly matin 
bell; 
Our time is short," Mephisto said, "for I 

Have an appointment about noon in hell. 
Dear, dear I why, heaven has hardly changed 

one bit 
Since the old days before the historic split.** 



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The excellent conventional technique 
displayed in The Prince's Quest has 
characterised nearly every page of Mr. 
Watson's works. He is not only con- 
tent to walk in the ways of traditional 
poesy, he glories in it. He has rather 
a hide-bound contempt for heretics and 
experimenters, which he has expressed 
frequently not only in prose, but in verse. 
It is natural that he should worship Ten- 
nyson; natural (and unfortunate for 
him) that he can see little in Browning. 
And if he is blind to Browning, what he 
thinks of contemporary "new" poets may 
easily be imagined. With or without 
inspiration, he believes that hard work 
is necessary, and that good workmanship 
ought to be rated more highly. This • 
idea has become an obsession; Mr. 
Watson writes too much about the sweat 
of his brow, and vents his spleen on 
"modern" poets too often. In his latest 
volume. Retrogression, published in 
191 7, thirty-two of the fifty-two poems 
are devoted to the defence of standards 
of poetic art and of purity of speech. 
They are all interesting and contain 
much truth ; but if the "new" poetry and 
the "new" criticism are really balder- 
dash, they should not require so much 
attention from one of the most eminent 
of contemporary writers. I think Mr. 
Watson is rather stiff-necked and obsti- 
nate, like an honest, hearty country 
squire, in his sturdy following of tradi- 
tion. Smooth technique is a fine thing in 
art; but I do not care whether a poem 
is written in conventional metre or in 
free verse, so long as it is unmistakably 
poetry. And no garments yet invented 
or the lack of them can conceal true 
poetry. Perhaps the Traditionalist 
might reply that uninspired verse grace- 
fully written is better than uninspired 
verse abominably written. So it is ; but 
why bother about either? He might 
once more insist that inspired poetry 
gracefully written is better than inspired 
poetry ungracefully written. And I 
should reply that it depended altogether 
on the subject. I should not like to see 
Whitman's "Spirit that formed this 
Scene" turned into a Spenserian stanza. 



I cannot forget that David Mallet tried 
to smoothen Hamlet's soliloquy by jam- 
ming it into the heroic couplet. Mr. 
Watson thinks that the great John 
Donne is dead. On the contrary, he is 
most audibly alive; and the only time 
he really approached dissolution was 
when Pope "versified" him. 

Ill 

Stephen Phillips, William Watson, 
Alfred Noyes— each published his first 
volume of poems at the age of twenty- 
two, additional evidence of the old truth 
that poets are bom, not made. Alfred 
Noyes is a Staffordshire man, though 
his report of the county differs from that 
of Arnold Bennett as poetry differs from 
prose. They did not see the same things 
in StafiEordshire, and if they had, they 
would not have been the same things, 
anyhow. Mr. Noyes was born on 
September 16, 1880, and made his 
only departure from the traditions of 
English poetry in going to Oxford. 
There he was an excellent illustration 
of mens sana in corpore sano, writing 
verses and rowing on his college crew. 
He is married to an American wife, is a 
professor at Princeton, and understands 
the spirit of America better than most 
visitors who write clever books about 
us. He has the wholesome, modest, 
cheerful temperament of the American 
college undergraduate, and the Princeton 
students are fortunate, not only in hear- 
ing his lectures, but in the opportunity 
of fellowship with such a man. 

Mr. Noyes is one of the very few 
poets who can read his own verses ef- 
fectively, the reason being that his mind 
is by nature both literary and rhetori- 
cal — a rare union. The purely literary 
temperament is usually marked by a cer- 
tain shyness which unfits its owner for 
the public platform. I have heard poets 
read passionate poetry in a muffled sing- 
song, something like a child learning to 
"recite." The works of Alfred Noyes 
gain distinctly by his oral interpretation 
of them. 

He is prolific. Although still a young 



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242 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



man, he has a long list of books to his 
credit; and it is rather surprising that 
in such a profusion of literary experi- 
ments, the general level should be so 
high. I said a profusion of literary ex- 
periments, rather than new experiments; 
he takes the old metrical formulas, and 
works them out to the complete satis- 
faction of his admirers. He writes blank 
verse, octosyllabics, terza-rima, sonnets, 
and is particularly fond of long rolling 
lines that have in them the music of the 
sea. He is no more of a pioneer than 
Phillips or Watson. His ideas require 
no enlargement of the orchestra, and 
he sedulously avoids by-paths, or unbeaten 
tracks, content to go lustily singing along 
the highway. Perhaps it shows more 
courage to compete with standard poets 
in standard measures than to elude dan- 
gerous comparisons by making or adopt- 
ing a new fashion. Mr. Noyes openly 
challenges the masters on their own field 
and with their own weapons. Yet he 
shows nothing of the schoolmasterish 
contempt for the "new" poetry so char- 
acteristic of Mr. Watson. He actually 
admires Blake, who was in spirit a twen- 
tieth century poet, and he has written a 
fine poem "On the Death of Francis 
Thompson," though he has nothing of 
Thompson in him except religious 
faith. 

In the time-worn but useful classifi- 
cation of versemakers under the labels 
Fates and Poeta, Alfred Noyes belongs 
clearly to the latter group. He is not 
without ideas, but he is primarily an 
artist, a singer. He is one of the most 
melodious of modern writers, with a 
witchery in words that at its best is 
irresistible. He has an extraordinary 
command of the resources of language 
and rhythm. Were this all he pos- 
sessed, he would be nothing but a grace- 
ful musician. But he has the imagina- 
tion of the inspired poet, giving him 
creative power to reveal anew the maj- 
esty of the untamed sea, and the mystery 
of the stars. With this clairvoyance — 
essential in poetry — he has a hearty, 
charming, uncondescending sympathy 
with "common" people, common flowers, 



common music. One of his most origi- 
nal and most captivating poems is "The 
Tramp Transfigured, an Episode in the 
Life of a Corn-flower Millionaire." 
This contains a character worthy of 
Dickens, a fairy touch of fantasy, a rip- 
pling, singing melody, with delightful 
audacities of rime. 

Tick, tack, tick, tack, I couldn't wait no 

longer! 
Up I gets and bows polite and pleasant as 

a toflf — 
"Afternoon," I says, "I'm glad your boots 

are going stronger; 
Only thing Vm dreading is your feet 'ull 

both come oflf." 
Tick, tack, tick, tack, she didn't stop to 

answer, 
"Arternoon," she says, and sort o' chokes a 

little cough, 
"I must get to Piddinghoe to-morrow if I 

can, sir!" 
"Demme, my good woman! Haw! Don't 

think I mean to loff," 
Says I, like a toff, 
"Where d'you mean to sleep to-night? God 

made this grass for go'off." 

His masterpiece, "The Barrel-Organ," 
has something of Kipling's rollicking 
music, with less noise and more refine- 
ment. Out of the mechanical grinding 
of the hand organ, with the accompani- 
ment of city omnibuses, we get the very 
breath of spring in almost intolerable 
sweetness. This poem affects the head, 
the heart, and the feet. I defy any man 
or woman to read it without surrender- 
ing to the magic of the lilacs, the magic 
of old memories, the magic of the poet. 
Nor has anyone ever read this poem 
without going immediately back to the 
first line, and reading it all over again, 
so susceptible are we to the romantic 
pleasure of melancholy. 

Mon coeur est un luth suspendu: 
Sitot qu'on le touche, il r^sonne. 

The late Mr. Mabie, in his admirable 
Introduction to the Poems of Alfred 
Noyes, in 1906, said, "If he speaks to his 
generation with both beguilement and 
authority, it will be because the heart 



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of the child and the mind of the man are 
in him." That he has the heart of the 
child is proved by his "Flower of Old 
Japan," and "Forest of Wild Thyme," 
a kind of singing Alice-in-Wonderland. 
These are the veritable stuff of dreams 
— ^wholly apart from the law of causation 
— one vision fading into another. It is 
our fault, and not that of the poet, that 
Mr. Noyes had to explain them: "It is 
no new wisdom to regard these things 
through the eyes of little children; and 
I know — however insignificant they may 
be to others — these two tales contain as 
deep and true things as I, personally, 
have the power to express. I hope, there- 
fore, that I may be pardoned, in these 
hurried days, for pointing out that the 
two poems are not to be taken merely 
as fairy-tales, but as an attempt to fol- 
low the careless and happy feet of chil- 
dren back into the kingdom of those 
dreams which, as we said above, are the 
sole reality worth living and dying for; 
those beautiful dreams, or those fantas- 
tic jests — if any care to call them so— 
for which mankind has endured so many 
triumphant martyrdoms that even amidst 
the rush and roar of modern material- 
ism they cannot be quite forgotten." 
Mr. William J. Locke says he would 
rather give up clean linen and tobacco 
than give up his dreams. 

Nearly all English poetry smells of 
the sea; the waves rule Britannia. 
Alfred Noyes loves the ocean, and loves 
the old sea-dogs of Devonshire. He is 
not a literary poet, like William Wat- 
son, and has never given any indication 
of possessing the insight or the interpre- 
tative power of his contemporary in deal- 
ing with pure literature. He has the 
blessed gift of admiration, and his poems 
on Swinburne, Meredith, and other mas- 
ters show a noble reverence; but they 
are without subtlety, and lack the dis- 
criminating phrase. He is, however, 
deeply read in Elizabethan verse and 
prose, as his Tales of the Mermaid 
Tavern, one of his longest, most pains- 
taking, and least successful works, 
proves; and of all the Elizabethan men 
pi actioi), Drake is his hero. English 



lovers of the sea, and German lovers 
of efficiency, have both done honour to 
Drake. I remember years ago, being in 
the town of Offenburg in Germany, and 
seeing at a distance a colossal statue, 
feeling some surprise when I discovered 
that the monument was erected to Sir 
Francis Drake, "in recognition of his 
having introduced the potato into 
Europe." Here was where eulogy be- 
came almost too specific, and I felt that 
their Drake was not my Drake. 

Mr. Noyes called Drake, published 
in 1908, an English Epic. It is not 
really an epic — it is a historical romance 
in verse, as Aurora Leigh is a novel. 
It is interesting from beginning to end, 
more interesting as narrative than as 
poetry. It is big rather than great, rhe- 
torical rather than literary, declamatory 
rather than passionate. And while many 
descriptive passages are fine, the pictures 
of the terrible storm near Cape Horn are 
surely less vivid than those in Dauber, 
Had Mr. Noyes written Drake without 
the songs, and written nothing else, I 
should not feel certain that he was a 
poet; I should regard him as an ex- 
tremely fluent versifier, with remarkable 
skill in telling a rattling good story. But 
the "Songs," especially the one beginning, 
"Now the purple night is past," could 
have been written only by a poet. In 
"Forty Singing Seamen" there is dis- 
played an imagination quite superior to 
anything in Drake; and I would not 
trade "The Admiral's Ghost" for the 
whole "epic." 

Alfred Noyes proves, as Browning 
proved, that it is possible to be an in- 
spired poet and in every other respect 
to remain normal. He is healthy- 
minded, without a trace of affectation 
or decadence. He is a robust optimist, 
and I think none the worse of him for 
that, since pessimism in itself is no evi- 
dence of profound thinking. He is an 
all-around poetical athlete, following the 
Tennysonian tradition in seeing that 
"Beauty, Good, and Knowledge are 
three sisters." He is deeply religious. 
A clear-headed, pure-hearted English- 
man is Alfred Noyes. 



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244 Advance of English Poetry in the Twentieth Century 



CREDO 
Thou that art throned so far above 

All earthly names, e'en those we deem 
Eternal, e'en that name of Love 

Which — as one speaketh in a dream — 
We whisper, ere the morning break 
And the hands yearn, and the heart ache. 

O Thou that reignest, whom of old 
Men sought to appease by praise or 
prayer; 
The spirit's little gifts of gold. 
The heart's faint frankincense and 
myrrh, 
Though we — ^the sons of deeper days — 
Can bring Thee neither prayer nor praise, 

We have not turned in doubt aside. 
Nor mocked with our ephemeral breath 

The little creeds that man's poor pride 
Still fashions in these gulfs of death, 

The little creeds that only prove 

Thou art so far, so far above. 

So far beyond all Space and Time, 

So infinitely far that none. 
Though by ten thousand heavens he climb 

Higher, shall yet be higher by one ; 
So far that—whelmed with light— we dare, 
Father, to know that Thou art here. 

IV 

Although A Shropshire Lad was pub- 
lished in 1896, there is nothing of the 
nineteenth century in it except the date, 
and nothing Victorian except the allu- 
sions to the Queen. A double puzzle 
confronts the reader: How could a Uni- 
versity Professor of Latin write this kind 
of poetry, and how, after having pub- 
lished it, could he refrain from publishing 
another bookful? Since the date of its 
appearance, he has produced an edition 
of Manilius, Book I, followed nine years 
later by Book II; also an edition of 
Juvenal, and many papers representing 
the result of original research. Possibly 

Chill Pedantry repressed his noble rage. 
And froze the genial current of his soul. 

Alfred Edward Housman was born 
on March 26, 1859, was graduated 
from Oxford, was Professor of Latin 



at University College, London, from 
1892 to 191 1, and since then has 
been Professor of Latin at Cambridge. 
Few poets have made a deeper impression 
on the literature of the time than he; 
and the sixty-three short lyrics in one 
small volume form a slender wedge for 
so powerful an impact. This poetry, 
except in finished workmanship, follows 
no English tradition ; it is as unorthodox 
as Samuel Butler ; it is thoroughly "mod- 
ern" in tone, in temper, and in empha- 
sis. Although entirely original, it re- 
minds one in many ways of the verse of 
Thomas Hardy. It has his paganism, 
his pessimism, his human sympathy, his 
austere pride in the tragedy of frustra- 
tion, his curt refusal to pipe a merry 
tune, to make one of a holiday crowd. 

Therefore, since the world has still 
Much good, but much less good than ill, 
And while the sun and moon endure 
Luck's a chance, but trouble's sure, 
I'd face It as a wise man would, 
And train for ill and not for good. 
'Tis true, the stuflF I bring for sale 
Is not so brisk a brew as ale: 
Out of a stem that scored the hand 
I wrung it in a weary land. 
But take it: if the smack is sour, 
The better for the embittered hour; 
It should do good to heart and head 
When your soul is in my soul's stead; 
And I will friend you, if I may. 
In the dark and cloudy day. 

Those lines might have been written by 
Thomas Hardy. They express not 
merely his view of life, but his faith in 
the healing power of the bitter herb of 
pessimism. But we should remember 
that A Shropshire Lad was published be- 
fore the first volume of Mr. Hardy's 
verse appeared, and that the lyrical 
power displayed in it is natural rather 
than acquired. 

Although at the time of publication the 
author was thirty-six years old, many of 
the poems must have been written in the 
twenties. The style is mature, but the 
constant dwelling on death and the grave 
is a mark of youth. Young poets love 
to write about death, because its contrast 



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William Lyon Phelps 



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to their present condition forms a ro- 
mantic tragedy, sharply dramatic and yet 
instinctively felt to be remote. Tenny- 
son's first volume is full of the details 
of dissolution, the falling jaw, the eye- 
balls fixing, the sharp-headed worm. 
Aged poets do not usually write in this 
manner, because death seems more realis- 
tic than romantic It is a fact rather 
than an idea. When a young poet is 
obsessed with the idea of death, it is a 
sign, not of morbidity, but of normality. 
The originality in this book consists 
not in the contrast between love and the 
grave, but in the acute self-consciousness 
of youth, in the pagan determination to 
enjoy nature without waiting till life's 
summer is past. 

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now 
Is hung with bloom along the bough, 
And stands about the woodland ride 
Wearing white for Eastertide. 

Now, of my threescore years and ten, 
Twenty will not come again, 
And take from seventy springs a score. 
It only leaves me fifty more. 

And since to look at things in bloom 
Fifty springs are little room, 
About the woodlands I will go 
To see the cherry hung with snow. 

The death of the body is not the great- 
est tragedy in this volume, for suicide, 
a thought that youth loves to play with, 
is twice glorified. The death of love is 
often treated with an ironical bitterness 
that makes one think of Time's Laugh- 
ingstocks. 

Is my friend hearty, 

Now I am thin and pine. 

And has he found to sleep in 

A better bed than mine? 

Yes, lad, I lie easy, 

I lie as lads would choose; 

I cheer a dead man's sweetheart. 
Never ask me whose. 



The point of view expressed in "The 
Carpenter's Son" is singularly detached 
not only from conventional religious be- 
lief, but from conventional reverence. 
But the extraordinary originality in A 
Shropshire Lad, while more strikingly 
displayed in some poems than in others, 
leaves its mark on them all. It is the 
originality of a man who thinks his own 
thoughts with shy obstinacy, makes up 
his mind in secret meditation, totally un- 
affected by current opinion. It is not 
the poetry of a rebel; it is the poetry of 
an absolutely independent man, too in- 
different to the crowd even to fight them. 
And now and then we find a lyric of 
flawless beauty, that lingers in the mind 
like the glow of a sunset. 

Into my heart an air that kills 
From yon far country blows: 

What are those blue remembered hills. 
What spires, what farms are those? 

That is the land of lost content, 

I see it shining plain. 
The happy highways where I went. 

And cannot come again. 

Mr. Housman's poems are nearer 
to the twentieth century in spirit than 
the work of the late Victorians, and 
many of them are curiously prophetic of 
the dark days of the present war. What 
strange vision made him write such 
poems as "The Recruit," "The Street 
Sounds to the Soldiers' Tread," "The 
Day of Battle," and "On the Idle Hill 
of Summer" ? Change the colour of the 
uniforms, and these four poems would 
fit to-day's tragedy accurately. They 
are, indeed, superior to most of the war- 
poems written by the professional poets 
since 19 14. 

Ludlow, forever associated with Mil- 
ton's Comus, is now and will be for 
many years to come also significant in the 
minds of men as the home of a Shrop- 
shire lad. 



(To be continued,) 



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KINGSHIP IN THE BALANCE 



BY FRANCES EVELYN WARWICK 
(Countess of Warwick) 



The war, intended originally to involve 
a short sharp sacrifice of the producing 
classes for the greater glory of two dy- 
nasties, has resulted after a thousand days 
in conditions so entirely different from 
those anticipated that there is hardly a 
ruler in the world who would not be a 
pacifist if he could. Europe's proletariat 
has developed an inquiring mind. Plain 
people whose business in life is to offer 
themselves and their sons as cannon fod- 
der for the carrying out of the policies 
of autocratic monarchs are asking in all 
seriousness if autocracy is worth it. The 
question is fatal because it admits of only 
one answer. As soon as the answer is 
given the scales fall from the worker's 
eyes. They realise that their enemies 
are not the men of the neighbouring 
country, men as poor, harassed, ill-used 
as themselves, but their own supreme 
ruler and the supreme rulers of the men 
over the border. When this simple truth 
is enunciated and understood the convic- 
tion follows that if the working man of 
one country will unite with the working 
man of another they can together throw 
down all the dynastic idols in their re- 
spective Houses of Baal. That conclu- 
sion once reached, the title of this paper 
is explained and justified. 

Kingship, strictly limited as it is in 
our own Empire, is no evil thing, though 
certain evils gather round it. Queen 
Victoria was the last ruler of Great 
Britain who impressed her personal pre- 
dilections upon her Ministers. But one 
of the faults of our limited monarchy 
is that it encourages in us a certain self- 
righteousness, a feeling that we are not 
as other people of the earth. We talk 
proudly of conferring liberty upon small 
nations, but at the time of writing we 
have not conferred that liberty upon 
Ireland, our nearest neighbour. We talk 



about freedom, as though it could only 
be written in these islands with a capital 
letter, while as a matter of simple fact 
the Defence of the Realm Act has not 
left us as much freedom as the villeins 
possessed in feudal times. The liberty 
we still enjoy is by grace of those who 
administer the Act and can be taken 
away without difficulty. Liberty and 
limited monarchy are excellent things in 
their way. It is our business in my coun- 
try to regain the first and pay strict at- 
tention to the adjective attached to the 
second. Across the Channel monarchy 
is more or less in the melting pot and 
the hardest, cruelest, most autocratic and 
most vicious monarchy in Europe has 
been the first to go. 

Now the Czar went, and the Czarina 
and family with him, because he pre- 
ferred absolute monarchy to victory over 
the enemy. He feared that a Russian 
victory would make the people, whose 
sacrifices had brought it about, insistent 
upon a share in the results. Owing to 
the unending series of thefts in high 
quarters a great part of the burden of 
supporting the war had fallen upon the 
bodies that may be compared with our 
own parish councils. The most remote ru- 
ral district had sent their sons to fight. In 
the trenches men had learned something 
of life, had realised that their valour and 
their blood were saving the Empire. 
Rather than pay the fair price for re- 
demption Nicholas Romanoff, weakest of 
the weak, preferred not to be redeemed. 
He was urged to every kind of reaction 
and filled the cabinets with pro-Germans, 
who held up army supplies, deliberately 
sent men to slaughter, sold Rumania 
and prepared the way for a peace with 
Germany, just as a Russian Czar made 
peace with Frederick the Great when 
that melancholy degenerate had been 



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Frances Evelyn Warwick 



247 



beaten to his knees in the Seven Years 
War he brought about by stealing Si- 
lesia. Happily, and yet to us almost in- 
explicably, the people rose in revolt, and 
Russia bids fair to enter the ranks of the 
world's republics. I am afraid that 
many in England who pay lip service to 
this vast and far-reaching transforma- 
tion secretly regret it. It is clear that 
all who are interested in monarchical in- 
stitutions would have preferred Russia 
as a constitutional monarchy that the 
evils of old time might have been per- 
petuated in a milder form. 

Of old Francis Joseph, who passed 
away last year full of years and empty 
of honour, there is nothing good to be 
said. The blood guilt that he carried 
to the grave is appalling in its magnitude, 
and the question as to how far senile 
decay and imbecility could condone it is 
one into which there is no occasion to 
inquire. Whether the successor to the 
throne, the son of an eccentric degener- 
ate, is capable of handling the problems 
he has inherited, time alone can tell, but 
it is indeed a matter for surprise that 
any one of the Hapsburg house, a family 
enfeebled by every crime and excess, 
should be permitted in the twentieth 
century to rule over as much as a score 
of sane men. 

The house of HohenzoUern will, we 
hope, pass soon beyond the sphere of rule. 
The first German Emperor was a sane 
and kindly old soldier, the second a hero 
and gentleman, the third may be left to 
the verdict of history. Perhaps the 
gravest charge to be made against him 
is that under his regime the interests of 
the people have been widely studied and 
skilfully guarded in order that there may 
be the greatest possible number of men 
to throw into the furnace of war, to no 
nobler end than that Germany might 
rule the world, to the greater glory of 
the HohenzoUern. Germany has sinned 
with knowledge. The developments 
within the Empire turned to peaceful 
purposes would have helped the whole 
world. But there was the glorification 
of a royal house to be considered, and by 
its side the real interests of the people 



were of no concern. German thorough- 
ness, business capacity, education and in- 
dustry were rapidly making a commer- 
cial conquest of the world; but that did 
not suffice. It was no conquest in 
HohenzoUern eyes that carried German 
capacity to the republics of America, 
where double-headed eagles would be 
shot at sight and put into a museum. 
Finely organised, universally drilled and 
half starved, the German rank and file 
that remain at home may be unable to 
express itself with force or coherence, 
but a time must come when the rem- 
nants will return from the battle-fields. 
Then they will realise the whole of the 
price they have been asked to pay for 
kingship. 

If Bulgaria had been a republic, in- 
stead of being misruled by a man who 
for treachery, vanity and heartlessness 
has not an equal even among the 
crowned heads of Europe, it would never 
have entered into the war. Ruined be- 
yond recovery, dependent for existence 
upon doles of weapons and money, Ferdi- 
nand of Bulgaria has probably betrayed 
his people for the last time. It was a 
struggle for them to forgive him for 
his failure in the Balkan war; they will 
not forgive him again, and it is well to 
remember that the Balkan struggle 
against Turkey was merely a diplomatic 
move by kings who did not concern 
themselves for a moment with the suf- 
fering involved. Territory was their 
sole interest. 

Turkey's Armenian policy was always 
directed by rulers to gain political ad- 
vantages, and the arrival of Turkey into 
the war area was arranged by rulers un- 
known to the Turk, who would rathei 
have fought anybody than have fought 
Englishmen — his regard for them is sin- 
cere. But kings planned, and the Turk- 
ish rank and file have paid in their tens 
of thousands for the planning. In short, 
one may look all over Europe for any 
people outside Prussia who really wanted 
war, and Prussia itself was beguiled by 
false prophets in HohenzoUern employ 
— mad soldier men like Bernhardi, or 
mad philosophers like Frederick Nietz- 



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248 



Kingship in the Balance 



sche. If the people did not know the 
truth before they have learned it now, 
and when all the tale of evil is told the 
responsibility of kings will be apparent 
even to those whose mind is slowest at 
forming conclusions from well-ascer- 
tained facts. In short, as I see it, the 
Great War has placed kingship upon its 
trial, and though the verdict has only 
been pronounced in Russia, it is likely 
that a similar verdict will be heard all 
over the Continent. 

It would be easy enough to point to 
men who have borne the burdens of 
kingship honourably. Belgium has a 
real friend in King Albert, the king 
without a kingdom, and yet one of the 
most attractive figures in Europe. The 
danger is that the royal houses in 
Europe tend by intermarriage to create 
and sustain interests that are wholly 
inimical to democratic progress. King- 
ship rather than the individual king is 
the public enemy. We find the Czar 
surrendering feebly to influences that 
tended to ruin him and quite unable to 
help himself. Constantine of Greece is 
another who has tottered to his downfall 
for the same cause. Most royal unions 
are mariages de convenance, they have 
political aims first. The result is not 
flattering. 

In this supreme crisis of their fate 
kings have not led their own armies, or 
if they have done so it has been after 
the fashion of the Duke of Plaza Toros 
in Gilbert's play: 

If there was any fighting 
He led his regiment from behind, 
He found it less exciting. 

To go from place to place and make 
speeches, to send telegrams and kill ene- 
mies by word of mouth, all this is mag- 



nificent, but it is not war. In the light 
of the red fires they have set blazing 
there is not a monarch who does not 
look terribly insignificant. The old 
fighting spirit that made kings out of 
the most valiant warriors died with the 
discovery of gunpowder; Europe is 
awake to the true aspect and value of 
kingship. At present France, Portugal, 
and San Marino are the republics of 
Europe, and wliile a Russian republic 
has been declared, owing to the many 
and rapid political changes there we mky 
not yet definitely claim her, although 
the portents are all favourable. How 
long before the great change comes? 

For the rulers who go there will be 
neither pity nor regret. In twenty-four 
hours Nicholas Romanoff lost every 
friend he had in Europe and out of it 
Even the monarchists had no good word 
for him. If and when the other auto- 
crats go there will be no regrets, only 
an expression of relief. Remember I 
am not attacking kings personally — many 
of them have all the virtues and most 
of the charms of manner: it is kingship 
that is out of date. Kings are feared for 
what they can do, flattered for what 
they may give, but there are few to love 
them in spite of the fact that many have 
a truly appealing personality. Their 
trade is not a reputable one, the aims 
enforced upon them are selfish or sordid. 
Across the broad Atlantic your United 
States laughs at them and the whole 
American Continent is free from the 
taint of kingship. True sovereignty is in 
the people and nowhere else. The 
great tragedy is that it has taken a war 
of unexampled horror and magnitude to 
teach the simple truth. But if the teach- 
ing has been effective the world will soon 
have one anachronism the less to contend 
against. 



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THE FLAG AND THE FIGHT 



BY CHARLES FERGUSON 



You have seen it perhaps breaking out 
from a flagstaff over an American con- 
sulate in some distant land — ^that wrig- 
gle of red slashes and speckle of stars! 
Or perhaps — ^very rarely indeed in lat- 
ter days — ^you have glimpsed the flag of 
your country on the high seas or in some 
foreign port. Always when you have 
come upon it in alien or unexpected 
places, it has given you a shock and a 
thrill; and you have thought of it, for 
a moment at least, as it has been thought 
of, now for seven scores of years, by the 
baffled youth and the disappointed faith 
of ambitious men in all the lands that 
are not American. 

This flag is not the flag of a nation 
only, it is a spiritual symbol that has 
stirred the world as no other symbol but 
the cross of Christ has ever stirred it. 
It is the conquering sign of a super-na- 
tion, a super-nation existing prophetically 
in the thoughts of the wise if not in the 
actualities of our achievement. To say 
of the United States that it is "one of 
the great powers" is to say a small thing. 
It is a kind of disparagement to say so. 
For America is so placed in history and 
in planetary space that it rounds a cycle 
of the race's experience and sums up the 
hope of four thousand years. One 
knows not what' may befall mankind in 
other millenniums, but if liberty is to 
be realised in this age it must be here. 
Here is the place where the westward 
march of the race has reached its termi- 
nus. Men out of every nation have 
been thrown together here. Here is a 
nation whose bond is not of blood or 
flesh but of the spirit. Here is the meet- 
ing place of all breeds. Here is the 
cross-roads of the world. And here is 
the moral and physical focus of the Great 
War. It is to be fought out here. 
America is liberty and liberty is Amer- 
ica. If America cannot find the way 



to freedom then, for the present, nobody 
can find the way. 

And what is this liberty wherewith we 
are to enlighten the world — this liberty 
of which we talk so much, and which 
is forever judging us and all our works 
from day to day ? It appears that liberty 
is not to be thought of as just a state of 
mind, as some moralists pretend — a mere 
stout-heartedness or freshness of spirit. 
It presupposes that. But the freedom 
that the flag stands for is more than that. 
It is a new and transforming politics — a 
civil order that is wholly different from 
the order of the Old World. It is what 
men think in the streets of American 
cities. It is what political refugees have 
thought for many generations, and west- 
ward-longing peasants in Ireland, Italy 
and the Russian plain. Here is the for- 
mula of it, if it must have a formula: 
in the Old World a mans place in the 
social scale determines what he cmt do, 
while in the tJew JVorld what a man can 
do determines his place in the scale. 
That is the freedom the flag stands for. 
Emerson of Concord meant this when 
he said that America is only another 
name for Opportunity. 

The difference between the way of the 
Old World and the way of the New is 
infinite. For the old order is governed 
by and for those who have claims upon 
it and debts to enforce against it; while 
the new order is governed by those and 
for those who have creative powers and 
social gifts to bestow. Under the old 
regime the enterprise of every man — the 
highest as well as the lowest — ^is limited 
by his status. The new regime sets no 
limit to enterprise. 

Now the notion that the heritage of 
a people can be safeguarded by those 
who have enforceable claims against it 
better than by those who feel themselves 
to be debtors to it with obligation to 



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250 



The Flag and the Fight 



discharge, is a very ancient notion. But 
it is not on that account either wise or 
practical. The truth is that the rule of 
organised ownership is exhausting. It 
always has ended, and in the nature of 
things always must end, in social sui- 
cide. Thus the old order lives on by the 
mere sufferance of the gods. It is the 
new order alone — the way of the bright 
flag — that is suitable to science and 
reality. 

They wholly misunderstand the genius 
of America who suppose that it rests 
upon the constitution of 1 789. The con- 
stitution does not undertake to define 
the new order; it is a strategic defence 
against the encroachments of the old. 
Americans do not fight for the consti- 
tution. They use it as a barricade 
against the politics of Europe. They 
fight behind it and above it, for the 
thing the barricade defends. 

The genius of America is mobilisa- 
tion — its order is framed not to keep 
things fixed, but to keep things moving. 
It proclaims a career for talent and tools 
to those who can use them. 

America is not jealous of ownerships. 
But it will not be ruled by ownerships. 
It will be ruled by the organisation of 
enterprise. It understands that social 
security — even the security of invest- 
ments—demands the clearing away of 
all legal obstacles to the improvement 
of the working plant. 

America will not be ruled by clerics 
and legalists, or by those who sit in- 
doors. The right that it will fight for 
is not the right of litigious egotism or 
frock-coated philanthropy. It fights for 
the open road, the straight furrow, the 
true point of the story and the bridge- 
girder that will stand the strain. It 
builds its altar of sacrifice to the right 
of the artist and the engineer. Its war 
is the only good war. It is the war of 
the masters of the arts and the engines 
against every human thing that wil- 
fully obstructs or opposes the creative 
life. 

The school-men shake their heads over 
the feebleness and inefficiency of democ- 
racy. But we know in our hearts that 



our weakness does not lie in our democ- 
racy, but in our capitulation to the prin- 
ciple of the Old World — the stupor of 
fixed status and the sway of the mort- 
gagee. 

We are ready now to leap from our 
seats and contend for our lives. We will 
not yield up the flag to market-hunters 
and stock-jobbers. We do not misunder- 
stand the meaning of the Great War. It 
is the shaking down of all thrones of 
arbitrary power — dynastic, plebiscitary 
and financial. There is no power that 
can survive and govern except the power 
that knows how to build cities and sub- 
due the earth. 

The Great War was caused by the 
massiveness and intricacy of the modern 
apparatus of industry and commerce. 
The machine of civilisation had out- 
grown the capacities of diplomatists, 
lawyers and deskmen. They ran it off 
the rails and into the ditch. 

But now comes America to the rescue. 
America has wavered in her understand- 
ing, but at the pitch of decision she does 
not misunderstand. She had talked of 
her legal rights, as if the war were a 
large lawsuit; and of her wounded 
honour, as if it were a question in the 
casuistry of duellists. Yet our democ- 
racy had built no high altar to such 
moralities. 

America is the repairer, the restorer — 
the builder-up of the waste places. Her 
heart is in the everlasting practicalities — 
in food, clothes, housing and tranporta- 
tion — in bread and wine. She will re- 
call the nations to the business of living. 
She will fight her way to a community 
of interest that shall cross all frontiers 
and police the streets of the planet. 

In America is the militant principle 
of reconstruction — the embattled power 
of peace. 

America means business — the free or- 
ganisation of men for the conquest of 
the difficulties of existence upon an in- 
clement planet. 

Her ministers are the masters of arts 
— the masters of materials. And her flag 
is war-red against all the masters of 
men. 



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Chronicle and Comment 



The Bookman's position in war- 
time has been the subject of much con- 
sideration by those in 
The Bookman charge of its policy as 
in War-Timc well as a subject of nat- 
ural interest to its 
subscribers. A recent letter from a 
Bookman reader brought the criticism 
that too much attention is being given 
to the war and its problems. The editor 
replied with a declaration of The 
Bookman's activities and policies in 
war-time, and at the request of the pub- 
lishers the reply is given herewith: 

"It is true that The Bookman is de- 
voting a large amount of space to the 
war. The editors feel that with this 
war going on, we are living in the midst 
of the greatest changes affecting human 
life and welfare that have ever occurred 
in history. The whole structure of so- 
ciety is crumbling before our very eyes, 
and the world and how we think and act 
in it will never again be what it was 
before this conflict. We cannot afford, 
therefore, even if we wished, to ignore 
this world-cataclysm — it pervades litera- 
ture and thought in every field and en- 
ters men's lives i/i every activity in which 

they take part. 

• • • 

"Then, too, the world of to-morrow 
that will emerge from this war will be 

what we ourselves make 
Our it. For the first time in 

To-morrow the evolution of the 

race, we are becoming 
conscious of our own control over our 
destiny, and thinking men are no longer 
willing to allow the future of their chil- 
dren to be determined by the operation 
of mere chance in conjunction with the 
ruthless mechanical laws of nature. As 
Omar Khayyam would have said, the 
world is being shattered into bits, and 
it is not only the task but the obligation 
of those who can do so to see to it that 
the new world is moulded 'nearer to our 
heart's desire.' 



The 

Personal 

Side 



"There is, again, the more personal 
side to this vast struggle — many of us 
have friends and rela- 
tives in England, or per- 
haps in France, or even 
in Germany, and from 
them and from what we read we are 
gaining some little appreciation of the 
unlimited and uncomplaining sacrifice of 
all that they hold dear; and learning 
something too of the great sorrow for 
the lost and the maimed that is oppress- 
ing and purifying the hearts of all ranks 
of the people. In such times as these, 
it would seem that the consideration of 
literature purely as such must be utterly 
futile. What difference does it make 
whether Henry James's style became more 
involved in his later years, or whether 
Robert W. Chambers's characters are 
wearing better clothes than formerly, 
when, daily and hourly, men are paying 
the supreme price of laying down their 
lives for their brothers — a price that we 
ourselves are going to learn the value 
of much more intimately when our own 
casualty lists begin to come in. No, I 
submit, that in these times no man can 
wrap himself up in the delight of con- 
templating the purely classical in litera- 
ture ; for if he does, on some to-morrow 
he will awake to find himself a stranger 

in a new world. 

• • • 

"Then, too, I do not like to think of 
literature as an isolated, ultra-refined art 

whose intricacies are 
Literature as practised by an adept 
Always few to the wondering 

admiration of their 
devotees. Literature, I believe, is infi- 
nitely more than this; I like to think of 
it as an organic, spontaneous movement 
allied with all the arts in expressing 
man's determination to adjust himself 
harmoniously to his fellows and to the 
world in which he happens to find him- 
self, and also in expressing his efforts to 
conquer and develop the world of en- 



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252 



Chronicle and Comment 



vironment to his own ends. This makes 
literature an intensely vital, living, 
human thing, and one of the most pow- 
erful tools at our command. And so 
the criticism of literature becomes not 
so much a controversy of dialecticians as 
to how a thing is written, but rather a 
philosopher's estimate of the human 
value of ^hjit is written. It is from this 
angle that The Bookman is trying to 
present current writing; and it is with 
these considerations in view that we are 
devoting much space to the war prob- 
lems, and to all that they signify in 
human life. This policy, then, repre- 
sents the gospel we are trying to work 
out in The Bookman; it represents 
that alignment of 'literature and life' 
that The Bookman has always en- 
deavoured to stand for." — The Editor, 



The 

Japanese 

Commission 



Of all the missions that have come to 
this country, the Japanese Commission 
that visited us the last 
month and more was 
the most remarkable 
and in point of enter- 
tainment perhaps the most spectacular. 
With our European allies we have been 
associated throughout our history, on 
battle-fields opposed or side by side and 
economically closely interwoven, so that 
their representatives brought no novel or 
unexpected ideas to this country. With 
Japan, however, the situation is differ- 
ent. But recently introduced to the 
family of nations, powerful, her ideas 
and aspirations unknown, her methods 
of thinking and of acting uncertain, 
Japan has brought into national rela- 
tionships the disquieting element of 
strangeness, and with it she has occa- 
sioned a naturally suspicious regard to- 
ward this unascertained factor of no lit- 
tle potential strength for mischief. So 
all that His Excellency Viscount Ishii 
had to say was followed with the gravest 
consideration, and he and his mission 
were accorded the possibly exaggerated 
courtesy we are inclined to extend to 
those whom we admire and whose re- 
lations in the past with us have afforded 
some feelings of mistrust. 



Viscount Ishii and his commission did 
all in their power to overcome these 
feelings of doubt ^nd to cement the 
friendship of the two peoples. The at- 
titude of Japan toward China has caused 
this country much uneasiness, and upon 
this point Viscount Ishii made decided 
assertions : Japan pledges herself, accord- 
ing to the Viscount, to maintain the ter- 
ritorial integrity of China and to sustain 
the policy of the "open door" to trade 
and western institutions. He also em- 
phatically denied the assumption made in 
our press that Japan is proposing an 
Eastern Monroe doctrine — a doctrine in 
short, as he hinted, whereby a dominant 
nation informs the world that it will per- 
mit nobody to conquer its neighbours but 
itself; Japan's ill-advised demands on 
China that aroused western resentment 
were soon withdrawn, it will be re- 
membered, when their troublous nature 
became obvious to the Japanese Govern- 
ment. It was hoped that Viscount 
Ishii would make some declaration or ex- 
planation of this matter, but upon this, as 
upon the methods of Japanese co-opera- 
tion in the war, he was silent to the pub- 
lic at large. 

• • • 

Japan is a little though a beautiful 
land. Her people are crowded between 

the mountain ranges 
A Friendly and the sea and her 

Japan population presses 

against those natural 
barriers with an ever-increasing friction. 
Nothing can be wasted in Japan: if the 
crops fail, the people starve; if the fish- 
ing-boats are lost the want is great. In 
her cities Japan has become industralised. 
like the leading western nations. She 
must get a steady supply of raw ma- 
terials or her workers suffer. Recently 
Japanese agents had bid up the price of 
iron and steel in New York to an un- 
precedented figure, and only our govern- 
mental price regulation saved a buyers' 
panic. Then Japan has silk to sell, and 
if her markets fail her, again her people 
starve through lack of buying power. 
And the United States is her best market 
both in which to sell her silk and in 



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Chronicle and Comment 



253 



which to buy her steel — Japan needs a 
friendly United States, for any rupture 
of relations or even a prohibitive tariff 
or an embargo on exports would bring 
deep distress if not actual ruin. If we 
consider this aspect of Japan's economic 
wants, then remember the exalted mis- 
sion sent to us and its earnest declara- 
tions of friendship, we can without any 
strain on our credulity banish the un- 
worthy suspicions of our valiant neigh- 
bour across the Pacific. 
• • • 
It has been said that the best agency 
to unite mankind into a co-operative so- 
ciety would be an at- 
From tack from the inhabi- 

Mars tants of a hostile planet. 

And that is the situa- 
tion to-day in practical effect. German 
thought and methods are so strange to 
those of the rest of the world, East and 
West alike, that she might just as well 
have launched her militant legions from 
Mars as far as the result on the world's 
peoples are concerned. For all the world 
is now united against this social outlaw, 
the super-monster of history, and it 
is especially the work of the Japanese 
and the presence of the Japanese commis- 
sion among us that has emphasised this 
union of the most widely dissimilar peo- 
ples in the destruction of a common 
menace and in the pursuit of the now 
common and universal ideal of perma- 
nent peace. In effect, this union of peo- 
ples in the pursuit of a common 
effort has produced a world-state whose 
ramifications are so subtle and whose 
bonds so strong as to exceed the 
imagination of the most speculative of 
our literary prophets. Industry, trans- 
portation, shipping, wealth and men are 
ever)nvhere being conscripted into a 
common pool and used with the single 
aim of efficiency and effectiveness for 
war operations to the exclusion of politi- 
cal or national prejudices or aspirations. 
Such a world-state in time of war will 
persist through its own momentum in the 
peace to come, notwithstanding the con- 
servatives and alarmists and those whose 
pretence at an understanding of that re- 



fractory element called human nature 
simply cloaks an unimaginative stolidity 
or a faith-destroying, unfortunate per- 
sonal experience. The world-state, in 
effect, must come if we are to achieve 
the first and most important step to- 
ward that ideal of permanent peace 
which has formulated itself out of this 
war and which alone can afford the hope 
to illumine the present valley of the 
shadow. The common good must tran- 
scend those national "aspirations" that 
are doomed to fall with the aristocratic 
caste through whom and by whom, in 
every nation which has been encumbered 
with their presence, these "aspirations" 
alone have found expression. A world- 
state with the interests and efforts of 
humanity combined against the common 
inclemency of environment is the only 
possible road toward permanent peace. 
• • • 
With the ill grace that might have 
been expected of him. La FoUette in his 
^ . , "defence" before the 

--- Senate committee joins 

,.^ the captious and oft- 

""* times invidious critics of 

the administration to be found in certain 
journals as well as among individuals 
in their demands for a further official 
statement of America's war aims. Presi- 
dent Wilson has often enough surely 
reiterated the main principles for which 
we strive: no indemnities, no territorial 
aggrandisement, and a stable basis of 
universal peace to make the world safe 
for 'democracy. And he has enunciated 
those principles so clearly and ably that 
there can be nowhere those who have 
the intelligence and interest to grasp 
them and who have not heard and in- 
wardly digested them. But, of course, 
what the critics demand is a more spe- 
cific and detailed account of this coun- 
try's attitude on the particular intentions 
of each of our belligerent allies — notably 
what would be our voice at the peace 
conference when Italy demands the 
Trehtino; when France, Alsace-Lor- 
raine ; when England demands the Ger- 
man colonies she has conquered; and 
where would our influence fall in the 



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settlement of the Dardanelles question, 
the Balkan embroglio, the proposed in- 
ternationalisation of the Suez Canal, the 
Straits of Gibraltar and the Panama 
Canal? A declaration of America's 
purpose on those points, these critics to 
the contrary notwithstanding, would be 
as disastrous as it would be unworthy 
of our statesmanship. 

• • • 

There are two outstanding reasons 
for our silence on our detailed war aims : 

in the first place, any 
Principles American interference 

Only in the aspirations of 

our allies would arouse 
a storm of contention among them and 
would lead to a "separate peace" open- 
ing for Germany's ubiquitous propa- 
ganda, while at the same time it would 
give opportunity for argument in this 
country, possibly rising to a bitter pitch, 
that would undermine our patriotism 
and lessen our war efficiency; then in 
the second place such a recital of war 
aims would be absolutely impossible, for 
we neither understand the European con- 
flict of interests nor is it our business 
to do so. We are in this war for prin- 
ciple — peace and the rights of individual 
human beings — and the first and great- 
est obstacle to the recognition and estab- 
lishment of these ideals is the German 
dynastic state. Imperial Germany *and 
all that it implies of aggression in the 
acquisition and usufruct of domain and 
peoples must go — that is our job foE,the 
present, and we must co-operate with 
our allies until our combined effective- 
ness has completed the task. 

• • • 

This decision — that Imperial Ger- 
many must go^is the only consistent 
logic that has for its 
objective a world-order 
of peace. A very care- 
ful study, arriving at 
this conclusion, is made by Professor 
Veblen in his latest book. On the Nature 
of Peace, The German dynastic estab- 
lishment. Professor Veblen points out, 
is by its very nature aggressive and 
greedy for domain and so will forever 



"On the 
Nature of 
Peace" 



contain a latent power for mischief. 
Given such a system in working order, 
side by side with nations whose essential 
spirit is pacifist while their national 
honour remains intact, there are three 
possible courses of action leading to 
peace. First, there is a possible sub- 
mission to German domination — a course 
that might result in an increase of crea- 
ture comforts but would never satisfy 
the psychological needs of Western peo- 
ples. Second, there is the peace of 
neutrals that would mean a league of 
the rest of the world combined against 
Germany with the necessary resultant of 
competitive armaments between the two 
world-orders — nothing more nor less 
than an accentuated "balance of power" 
scheme which wrecked the world in 
191 4 and which affords a solution that 
those who have the best interests of 
mankind at heart can never tolerate. 
There remains, according to Professor 
Veblen, only the "elimination of the 
unfit." That "a lasting peace is pos- 
sible on no other terms than the dis- 
establishment of the Imperial dynasty 
and the abrogation of all feudalistic rem- 
nants of privilege in the Fatherland and 
its allies, together with the reduction of 
those countries to the status of common- 
wealths made up of ungraded men," is 
the conclusion of a most interesting, 
sound and stimulating study of the pres- 
ent world-order (or rather world-dis- 
order) and what may come of it. 



Pistols for Two is a little booklet writ- 
ten by one Owen Hatteras that although 

privately printed seems 
"Pistols for to have permeated the 
Two" various literary strata 

"about town." It pur- 
ports to give a detailed and somewhat 
pithy and spicy account of the intimate 
habits, customs and manners (or lack 
of them) of two of earth's curious crea- 
tures, by name H. L. Mencken and 
George Jean Nathan. These two gen- 
tlemen, who withal conduct the Smart 
Set magazine, appear to be accomplished 
in divers ways, but along no line so 
eminently successful as in their disregard 



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^5S 



of the minor inhibitions arising from 
those little social amenities and conven- 
tions whereby the lives and conduct of 
lesser citizens are regulated and to a 
degree circumscribed. These men be- 
long to that type of intellectual super- 
man for whom the vulgar morality of 
comomn usage is as passe and unthinkable 
as would be, say, a hoop skirt for Miss 
Molla Bjurstedt, the tennis champion. 
Such intellectual giants are a law unto 
themselves; that is, they graciously 
adapt their standards of action to the 
exigencies of the enterprise in hand with 
that abounding individualism that recks 
little of the common weal. These mod- 
est conclusions are drawn from Mr. 
Hatteras's sprightly volume, a modern^ 
strictly American type of burlesque 
biography that ought to make poor old 
Boswell turn in his grave for very envy. 
Regarding the subjects of Mr. Hat- 
teras's observations, it should be admitted 
that this pair must be- as tolerant of 
others as they are of themselves; for 
otherwise there might indeed be "pistols 
for two," not in the duello sense in- 
tended, but rather with the warlike en- 
terprise diverted in the direction of the 
author and publisher of the little 
volume. 



A Friend of 

Lafcadio 

Heam 



The publication this month of Life 
and Literature, a third volume in the 
series of lectures deliv- 
ered by Lafcadio Hearn 
to his Japanese pupils, 
recalls some interesting 
facts about the man who made these 
volumes possible. It was through the 
efforts of Captain Mitchell McDonald 
of the United States Navy that these 
lectures were gathered together, for 
Hearn himself never wrote them out and 
the only record of them was in the 
notes taken at the time by Hearn's 
Japanese scholars. Captain McDonald, 
as Hearn 's literary executor, was fortu- 
nate in being able to accumulate a great 
quantity of these notes, and they are now 
being edited by Professor Erskine of 
Columbia and published in book form. 
As a friend of Lafcadio Hearn, Captain 
McDonald has a unique memory, for 



Heam was a most difficult, sensitive, dis- 
trustful and tactlessly candid man in his 
personal relationships. His susceptibility 
to offence, his appalling frankness to- 
ward friend and foe alike, his hatred 
of conventionalities, his morbid distrust 
confirmed by years of bitter experience, 
all tended to make friendship with him 
a perilous, though a precious, gift. But 
that Hearn was capable of inspiring a 
genuine and worthy friendship his re- 
lations with Captain McDonald prove, 
and his letters to this friend are among 
the most human and considerate that 
he has given us. In January, 1898, 
Hearn writes from Tokio to Captain 
McDonald in Yokohama, where the 
latter was attached as paymaster to the 
United States Naval Hospital: 

I believe those days of mine in Yokohama 
were the most pleasurable in a pilgrimage 
of forty-seven years. Such experience will 
not do for me except at vast intervals. It 
sends me back to work with much too good 
an opinion of myself — and that is bad for 
literary self-judgment. The beneficial re- 
sult is an offsetting of that morbid condi- 
tion — that utter want of self-confidence. . . . 
I not only feel that I ought to do some- 
thing good, but I am going to do it — with 
the permission of the gods. 

The characteristic shyness of the man, 
which made him shun anything of the 
nature of "social functions," appears in 
this extract: 

How to answer your kind suggestions 
about pulling me out of my shell I don't 
well know. I like to be out of the shell — 
but much of that kind of thing could only 
result in the blue devils. After seeing men 
like you and the other Guardsman — the dear 
Doctor— one is beset with a foolish wish to 
get back into the world which produced you 
both. 

• • • 

At present Captain McDonald, with 
a little accumulation of years since his 
friendship with Hearn, 
but as young in spirit 
as ever, is on active 
duty in the United 
States Navy. Recently, in the evenings 
when his official work was over, he has 



Heam on 
How to 
Read 



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256 



Chronicle and Comment 



been engaged in the generous task of 
reading the proofs of his friend's last 
work to be given to the public — these 
lectures of Heam to his Japanese pupils 
— ^and it must be a labour of love to 
lighten even the tedious night work that 
follows a heavy day of energy and care. 
In the first chapter of this latest volume 
of these lectures, Life and Literature, 
there is some good advice on the reading 
of books, and as we suspect the faults of 
which Hearn speaks are not confined to 
the youth of Japan, we quote some of his 
remarks in the following: 

Thousands and thousands of books are 
bought every year, every month, I might 
even say every day, by people who do not 
read at all. They only think that they read. 
They buy books just to amuse themselves, 
"to kill time,'' as they call it. In one hour 
or two their eyes have passed over all the 
pages, and there is left in their minds a 
vague idea or two about what they have 
been looking at; and this they really be- 
lieve is reading. ... No man is really, able 
to read a book who is not able to express 
an original opinion regarding the contents 
of a book. 

No doubt you will think that this state- 
ment of the case confuses reading with 
study. You might say, "When we read 
history or philosophy or science, then we 
do read very thoroughly, studying all the 
meanings and bearings of the text, slowly, 
and thinking about it. This is hard study. 
But when we read a story or a poem out 
of class hour, we read for amusement. 
Amusement and study are two different 
things.'' As a matter of fact, every book 
worth reading ought to be read in precisely 
the same way that a scientific book is read 
— not simply for amusement; and every 
book worth reading should have the same 
amount of value in it that a scientific 
book has, though the value may be of a 
totally different kind. For, after all, the 
good book of fiction or romance or poetry 
is a scientific work; it has been composed 
according to the best principles of more 
than one science, but especially according 
to the principles of the great science of life, 
the knowledge of human nature. 



An authorised Library Edition of The 
Social Plays of Arthur Wing Pinero is 

about to be issued by 
The Plays of Clayton Hamilton, 
Pinero whose Problems of the 

Playwright is reviewed 
by Professor Brander Matthews in the 
present number of The Bookman. 
The first volume will start off with a 
General Introduction, reviewing the re- 
cent history of the English drama and 
narrating the life of Sir Arthur Pinero. 
This volume will contain the texts of 
The Second Mrs, Tanqueray and The 
Notorious Mrs. Ebbsmith, each accom- 
panied by a Critical Preface from the 
pen of the editor; and it will be fol- 
lowed by four or five other volumes, in 
which the masterpieces of Pinero will 
be set forth in chronological succession. 
Mr. Hamilton's edition of Pinero fol- 
lows, in the main, the pattern set by 
Mr. William Archer in his edition of the 
plays of Henrik Ibsen; and most of the 
Critical Prefaces will be based on per- 
sonal conversations between the editor 
and the author of the plays. 



Mr. Hamilton is well known to read- 
ers of The Bookman, for he has con- 
^. tributed monthly arti- 

H^^r ^'^ ^^^^ ^^^ current 

A* EdT' drama to the pages of 

®' this magazine through- 

out the last eight years. He has also 
served for several seasons as the dra- 
matic editor of Vogue; and, in past 
years, he has been engaged in a similar 
capacity with Everybody's Magazine 
and with The Forum, He is generally 
regarded as one of the foremost critics 
in this country, not only of the drama 
but also of literature and painting. In 
contradistinction to most dramatic crit- 
ics, Mr. Hamilton has also been suc- 
cessful as a maker of plays. Two new 
pieces, planned by him and executed in 
collaboration with Mr. A. E. Thomas, 
are scheduled for production during the 
present season. One of these, a farce 
called Thirty Days, has been t>ought by 
A. H. Woods, and the other, a serious 



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Chronicle and Comment 



257 




As Good- 
Natured as 
He Is Lazy 



Photo by Gcnthe, N. Y. 
CLAYTON HAMILTON, CRITIC, LECTURER, PLAY- 
WRIGHT — ^THE DRAMATIC CRITIC FOR THE 
BOOKMAN 

drama called The Better Understand- 
ing, is owned by Henry Miller. 
• • • 
Though Mr. Hamilton habitually 
writes five or six magazine articles every 
month and issues a new 
book and a new play 
every year or two, he 
manages also to find 
time for conducting a popular career as 
a public lecturer on literature and the 
drama. His course in Contemporary 
Dramatic Literature in the Department 
of Extension Teaching at Columbia Uni- 
versity is largely attended, and he has 
also been associated as a lecturer with 
Dartmouth College, the Chautauqua In- 
stitute, and the Brooklyn Institute of 
Arts and Sciences. Not many years ago, 
Mr. Hamilton was noted as a long dis- 
tance swimmer; and he still seems to 
enjoy the experience of exerting himself 
to the limit of endurance. But, despite 
his manifold activities, he always appears 



to have plenty of time for play and has 
a habit of bemoaning his own laziness. 
He never talks about the drama when he 
can possibly avoid the topic; but prefers 
to tell of his experiences as the purser 
of a wandering tramp-steamer, or as an 
adventurous traveller in Greece at the 
outset of the second Balkan war, or as 
a corporal in the third training regiment 

at Plattsburg. 

• • • 

Early in the war, the public mind ex- 
perienced a sense of bewilderment from 
the appearance of vari- 
Beck's ous diplomatic docu- 

Judgment ments, and counter ar- 

guments — particularly 
those of Dr. Dernburg, Germany's advo- 
catus diaboli, — ^which led the New York 
Times to ask the Hon. James M. Beck, 
jurist and late Assistant Attorney-Gen- 
eral of the United States, to analyse the 
evidence in regard to the causation of the 
war, and to give his opinion as a jurist 
on the question of moral responsibility 
contained in these documents. Mr. Beck 
dictated for four unbroken hours "The 
Dual Alliance versus The Triple • En- 
tente," called in England "Beck's Judg- 




JAMES M. BECK, LAWYER, AUTHOR OF "THE 
WAR AND HUMANITY" 



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Chronicle and Comment 



ment." This paper made an instantane- 
ous and remarkable impression all over 
the world. It was translated into Bul- 
garian, Spanish, Swedish, Japanese, 
Greek, Italian, Russian, French and 
German. In France there were three 
different reprints: here a lawsuit gath- 
ered about it, resulting in one publisher 
paying damages when a Bordeaux paper 
used a copyrighted translation. Because 
of the interest everywhere in his argu- 
ment, Mr. Beck made up his mind to 
extend his paper, and the result was The 
Evidence in the Case, a book that was 
published not only in English, but in 
French, and even in German — the lat- 
ter edition being by Swiss publishers. 
Of special interest is the fact that the 
chapter on Belgium was translated into 
nearly every modern language. Of 
course the book was promptly put on 
the proscribed list of both Germany and 
Austria, but copies got into circulation 
in Germany, together with some re- 
views, one a two-column article in the 
Continental Times of Berlin. Mr. Beck 
then wrote a sequel. The War and Hu- 
manity, which is now in its third edition 
and of which a French edition is to ap- 
pear this month. 

• • • 

In view of the widespread interest 

taken in Mr. Beck's work both in Eng- 

. land and France, he 

J was invited to visit 

., - both countries and to 

Abroaa t 1 1* jj 

make public addresses. 

This he did in the summer of 1916, and 
he was accorded a reception truly ex- 
traordinary for one who held no office 
and bore no credentials. The chief func- 
tion given in his honour by England was 
a luncheon in London on July 5, 191 6. 
Viscount Bryce presided and a very 
representative group of nearly five hun- 
dred Englishmen came to welcome him. 
Mr. Beck spoke on "America and the 
Allies," and this reply is reprinted in 
his second book on the war. Following 
the London reception, he was enter- 
tained in Glasgow, Manchester, and 
other English cities, and subsequently in 
Paris, making public addresses in each 



city. As a guest of both nations, he spent 
six days on the battle front, and later 
made a visit to the Grand Fleet. 

At the time of Mr. Beck's visit, there 
was both in England and France a cer- 
tain resentment against the United 
States, growing out of blockade difficul- 
ties. He therefore faced a situation not 
unlike that growing out of the Civil 
War when Henry Ward Beecher went 
to England to interpret America to Eng- 
lish audiences. The results of the two 
visits are not dissimilar, for it is gen- 
erally recognised in England that Mr. 
Beecher's visit and his addresses went 
far to modify the hostile attitude which 
then prevailed. 

In Mr. Beck's books, he has at times 
severely criticised the neutral policy of 
the Wilson administration; but in his 
addresses abroad he showed good taste 
and excellent judgment in saying nothing 
derogatory of the government. On the 
contrary he justified the attitude of the 
American people and indirectly showed 
the great difficulties under which it la- 
boured in following any policy other than 
that of neutrality in the first year of the 
war. Since the entry of the United 
States into the war, he has refrained 
from any criticism of the Administra- 
tion and has loyally supported all its 
war policies. 

• • • 

Booth Tarkington did not write the 
play which has been made from his story 
No Camou- Seventeen and which 

flage for has been produced this 

Booth fall by Stuart Walker 

Tarkington of Portmanteau The- 

atre fame. Mr. Tarkington is both a 
playwright and a just man. He knows 
from personal experience that writing a 
play is very different from writing a 
story. That he does not wish to take 
credit from the hard-working dramatist 
is shown in a letter published in the In- 
dianapolis News before the initial per- 
formance of Seventeen. Mr. Tarking- 
ton writes: 

The play Seventeen is not mine; I haven't 
seen the script, even. One of my aversions 



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The New York Public Library 



259 




BOOTH TARKINGTON. HIS BOOK '^SEVENTEEN" 
HAS RECENTLY REACHED THE STAGE UNDER 
THE GUIDANCE OF STUART WALKER 

is the habit of managers to cut out all pos- 
sible references to the actual playwright, in 
the case of plays founded on popular books. 
The writer of the book usually permits such 



a play to be referred to as his play — some- 
times he encourages such references; and I 
have known the writers of dramatised books 
who somehow got to believing that they had 
made the dramatisations. I know one lady 
writer who "travels with the company," 
makes first night speeches, and talks about 
"my little play" — puts in the "little" to show 
how modest she is — and she never in her 
life wrote a line in any play produced! 

All I know about Seventeen as a play is 
that whatever it turns out to be, it will be a 
surprise to me/ It's not my play, and if 
it's a good play, that will be altogether to 
the credit of the people who write it and 
those who produce it. I suspect that it has 
merit or Mr. Stuart Walker wouldn't be 
producing it. Also, I strongly believe that 
Mr. Gregory Kelly will be delectable. 

In a telegram of congratulation to 
Mr. Walker after the successful opening 
of Seventeen, Mr. Tarkington modestly 
remarked, "I am in no discernible meas- 
ure responsible for either the produc- 
tion or its friendly reception." Which 
shows Mr. Tarkington a consistent man, 
for he steadfastly refuses to steal any 
thunder even after there is thunder to 
steal. 



THE NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY 

BY DANIEL M. HENDERSON 

From out the library's silent halls I strode 

Into the traffic of Fifth Avenue ; 

Into a scene of turmoil, from a view 
Of book-lined aisles where Milton's lamp still glowed ; 
Where valiant spirits of the past abode; 

Where, in a cloister-hush, men paid their due 

Of reverence to the great souls whence they drew 
Ideals and dreams to lighten their long road. 

The two contrasted strangely in my thought — 
This tide ^f noisy, hurrying, heedless men, 
And yonder brooding temple of earth's lore; 

And yet 'twas through this tide that fame was wrought, 
Within this life-stream Chaucer dipped his pen, 
And Shakespeare searched its depths and found his ore. 



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THE OPERA— BY, FOR AND WITH 
AMERICANS 

BY FREDERIC DEAN 



Something over a quarter century ago, 
Edmund C. Stanton was the Director 
General of the operatic forces at the 
Metropolitan. He was a New Yorker 
— the first born and bred American since 
the house was opened by Henry E. Abbey 
in November, 1883. It was probably 
for this reason — because of his sympa- 
thies with home talent — that Mr. Stan- 
ton was besieged by American com- 
posers and singers. His desk was always 
full of American scores, and he had a 
formidable list of what he called "im- 
possible applicants" — excellent singers, 
but singers without European operatic 
reputations. ^One day, as he was re- 
arranging his desk, he turned to a friend 
and said: "Here's a drawer full of 
American compositions worthy of a hear- 
ing at the Metropolitan, but I wouldn't 
dare produce one of them before it had 
been heard on the other side. New 
Yorkers will not go across the street to 
hear anything that has not come by way 
of Europe." And, referring to his list of 
"impossibles," he added: "Now, take 
these singers. Here is a wealth of splen- 
did material, but I might as well hand in 
my resignation as to suggest the engaging 
of these good people." 

To-day, they do things differently. 
Among this season's offerings at the 
Metropolitan, Manager Gatti-Casazza 
announces six novelties, two of which 
are by Americans — a ballet, The Dance 
in Congo Place, by Henry W. Gilbert, 
and a two-act opera, Shanewis, by 
Charles Wakefield Cadman; and of his 
seven "new artists" six are American 
girls — three of whom have never before 
been heard in opera. Nor is this all. 
Later in the winter, Cleofonte Campa- 
nini, as the head of the Chicago Opera 
Company, is to give a four- weeks' season 
of opera at the Lexington Theatre. He, 



too, intends producing a number of new 
works, and two of these are by Ameri- 
cans — Henry Hadley, whose tragedy, 
Azora, will be given its first New York 
hearing, and Arthur Nevin, who will be 
represented by a lighter work, Daughter 
of the Forest, Signor Campanini's com- 
pany consists entirely of foreigners, but 
he is gracious enough to say that two of 
the chef d'oevres of his season will be 
his two American operas, which he has 
sandwiched in between Massenet's Cleo- 
patre, Camille Erlanger's Aphrodite, 
Raoul Gounsbourg's Le Vieil Aigle, 
Xavier Leroux's Le Chemineau, Sylvio 
Lazzari's Le Souteriot and Mascagni's 
Isabeau — all to be heard for the first 
time. At the Metropolitan the novelties 
from across the water are Mascagni's 
Lodoletta, Henri Raboud's Marouf, 
Liszt's Saint Elizabeth and Rimsky- 
Korsokofl's Le Cog d'Or. The Amer- 
ican newcomers at the Metropolitan are 
Florence Easton, May Peterson, Helen 
Kanders, Marie Conde, Ruth Miller 
and Cecil Arden; John McCormack, 
tenor, and Thomas Chalmers, baritone. 
Among the singers announced by the 
Chicago company are Amelita Galli- 
Curci, Marthe Chenal, Rosa Raisa, 
Genevieve Dix and Anna Fitziu — hail- 
ing from Italy, France, Poland and Eng- 
land — and Madame Melba, cosmopoli- 
tan and native of the world. 

THE MOST AMBITIOUS NOVELTY 

The most pretentious of the four 
American novelties is Hadley 's Azora. 
Mr. Hadley is in his forty-fourth year — 
the youngest of the four men — and has 
been writing sefious music since he was 
twenty. Heretofore he has shown a par- 
tiality for strings and wood-winds; in 
Azora he has made use of the brasses 
with true Strauss prodigality. The time 



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Frederic Dean 



261 




CECIL ARDEN, NEW AMERICAN CONTRALTO AT THE METROPOLITAN 
OPERA HOUSE 



and place — olden time Mexico — call for 
music that is as ornate as is the scene in 
which the plot is laid ; the costumes must 
be gorgeous and the scenery resplendent 
with everything that smacks of Mexican 
tropical luxury and regal magnificence. 
The music is full of colour and atmos- 
phere. In the introduction to the third 
act there is a sumptuous bit of scoring 
and the number known as the "Barbaric 
Dance" is a hectic affair that will be- 
come popular. It is a dance of maidens 



who are unaware of the hideous fate 
awaiting them, and they dance with a 
joy that grows in excitement until it 
borders upon, and finally becomes, 
frenzy. Here Hadley is at his wildest 
and best. Trumpets and flutes, harps 
and tympani, violins and double-basses 
weave in and out, forming a musical 
mosaic flooded with colour. Unex- 
pected rhythms, dissonances that melt 
into delicious harmonies, weird and tell- 
ing combinations of instruments — all are 



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262 The Opera — By, For and With Americans 



used as aids to a sensuous, swinging 
melody that intoxicates and compels an 
ever-increasing vehemence and passionate 
fervour. In another scene there is a ' 
suggestion of a combination of Wolf- 
Ferrari and Berlioz; in another a touch 
of sadness that calls to mind Tschaikow- 
ski. A recurring melody haunts the 
entire opera, reminding one of the 
Thais Meditation — a melody that, 
like Massenet's interlude, is sung by the 
violin. 

CADMAN's INDIAN OPERA "SHANEWIS" 

As Charles Wakefield Cadman has 
specialised in Indian music practically all 
of his musical life, it is fitting that he 
should write around an Indian theme in 
this his first opera. The two scenes in 
Shaneuris are laid in California and 
Oklahoma. The trio forming the eternal 
triangle are a Vassar girl, an Indian 
maid and a vacillating lover. Mr. 
Cadman lived for a long time among 
the Blackfeet Indians and knows whereof 
he writes. A bit of Indian psychology 
that is wrapped up in the story is ad- 
mirably expressed in the music. The 
appealing maid of nature and the sus- 
ceptible young man from the East — 
although betrothed to one of his own 
kind — have their own life to live, and 
proceed to live it. Nature exacts her 
rightful punishment — the death of the 
seducer. A young Indian brave hands 
a poisoned arrow to the maid with the 
understanding that she will plunge it 
into the heart of her lover. But she has 
become "too civilised, too weak," and 
the messenger of death falls from her 
fingers to the ground, only to be picked 
up and shot straight to the mark by 
the one who thought to be free from the 
killing. 

Around this simple tragedy Mr. Cad- 
man has woven a number of Indian 
melodies — melodies that give just such 
atmosphere as the story needs — and has 
placed them in appropriate orchestral 
settings. The very simplicity of the 
plot and of its musical frame adds to 
the dignity of the undertaking. It is a 
glimpse of Indian life made vocal by 



the added charm of Indian music — real 
Indian music, music that is vital, fervid, 
sweel, passionate, tragic. Mrs. Nellie 
Ridimond Eberhart, who furnished Mr. 
Cadman* with many of the texts to his 
songs, has written the story of the play. 
It is more than a libretto; it is the real 
book of the play. 

A BALLET FROM NEW ORLEANS LIFE 

When Dr. Dvorak visited ^his coun- 
try as the "guest" Director of Mrs. 
Thurber's musical institute, he was 
amazed to find such a variety of ma- 
terial for an American symphony and 
such an aversion on the part of the 
American musician to using it; and he 
forthwith proceeded to gather and paste 
together the rhythmic cadences of the 
"home music," as he called it, and of- 
fered the finished product as his New 
World Symphony, In The Dance in 
Place Congo Henry W. Gilbert has 
undertaken the same idea in somewhat 
different form, and which he calls a 
"fantasy without words." George W. 
Cable must be credited with the in- 
spiration of the present venture. Cable 
stole the idea from a famous dance, that 
in turn was credited to New Orleans 
over a century ago — a fantasy of life in 
the old Creole days. What a surprise 
for the operatic looker-on ! Would that 
it were possible to call back to life and 
energy the long-disbanded Williams and 
Walker coterie of artists! Their grace 
and their abandon could find no worthier 
opportunity for display than in this Cre- 
ole ballet of Gilbert's. 

A GLANCE AT THE FOREIGN NOVELTIES 

Cleopatre, Massenet's swan song, had 
its premiere at Monte Carlo five years 
ago. The silver-tongued Viviani has 
called Massenet's music "a poem in 
honour of woman — giving full expres- 
sion to her as both temptress and con- 
soler." Both the librettist, Louis Payen, 
and Massenet have done their best to 
give their Cleopatre full expression as 
temptress. Massenet loves low voices 
and has very cleverly given to his seduc- 
tive charmer-heroine music written for a 



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AMELITA GALLl-CURCI, THE COLORATURA OF THE CHICAGO OPERA COMPANY 



rich, warm-toned mezzo, and, by way 
of contrast, made both Charmion and 
Octavia high sopranos. Marc An- 
tony is a baritone. Cleopatre's en- 
trance song, **C*est le nuit d*amour,** and 
Antony's letter — the letter received 
from his love — are musical bits that will 
find favour among the American listen- 
ers. An excellent touch is the finale: 
Immediately after the death of the lovers 
a voice outside calls: "Place a Cesare," 
and the opera is brought to a sudden 
close. 



Saint Elizabeth, one of Liszt's most 
successful religious compositions, is called 
by the Abbe not an oratorio, but "a 
legend." Its dramatic quality was dis- 
covered at Weimar and Vienna, where 
it was given in stage form — although 
against the repeatedly expressed un- 
willingness of the composer. It is a 
poem divided into scenes or "pictures" 
that lend themselves gracefully to dra- 
matic stage treatment. From the ar- 
rival of little Elizabeth, daughter of 
a Hungarian noble prince, up to the 



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264 The Opera — By, For and With Americans 




MAY PETERSON, NEW AMERICAN SOPRANO AT THE METROPOLI- 
TAN OPERA HOUSE 



final scene, there is intense dramatic 
feeling and great theatric possibilities. 
After the stage performances of Mas- 
senet's Samson et Delilah, why not try 
Saint Elibazethf 

Mascagni's Isabeau, produced at La 
Scala in 19 12, follows the lines of Ten- 
nyson's story of Lady Godiva, who rode 
through the streets of her town "clad 
in her own modesty." The ride is de- 
scribed by one of Mascagni's very pic- 
turesque "intermezzos." The librettist 
is Luigi Illica — a melodramatic word 
painter. The "Song of the Hawk" is 
to be praised. The demanded scenery 
is magnificent. 



Xavier Leroux, composer of Le 
Chemineau, and Camille Erlanger, whose 
Aphrodite will be seen at the same 
time, are of the same age and have had 
the same musical schooling, both being 
successful applicants for the prix de 
Rome from the Paris Conservatoire. 
Sylvio Lazzari, responsible for Le 
Souteriot, is five years their senior, but, 
like Tschaikowski, Lazzari started in 
the law and graduated into music. La 
Vieil Aigle, with both text and music 
by Raoul Gounsburgh, of Monte Carlo, 
was given its American premiere at Chi- 
cago last January. The opera lasts but 
forty-five minutes. The story is taken 



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from one of Maxim Gorky's tales. 
Tolaik, son of the Khan, Asvazel el 
Moslaim, has returned in triumph from 
the war. His father asks what he will 
accept for his heroism. Tolaik looks 
upon the beautiful slave Zina and 
will have nothing but her. Zina 
is his father's pet, the chief delight 
of his harem, and Zina refuses to go, 
whereupon the chief lures her to a neigh- 
bouring cliff and hurls her into the sea. 
The scene is a barren region in the 
Crimea. Rosa Raisa, who sings the 
part of the slave, happens to know this 
part of the country and the type she 
represents. She was born in Russian 
Poland, found her way to Italy, where 
she was fortunate enough to attract 
the attention of Madame Campanini, 
through whose good offices she was in- 
troduced into opera in Italy and was 
brought to America to sing under the 
direction of Madame's husband. 

who's whq among the newcomers 

Everyone who remembers the first 
season^of Madama Butterfly in America 
will remember the charming Japanese 
heroine to whom Colonel Savage intro- 
duced his audiences — Florence Easton. 
For over ten years Germany claimed 
Miss Easton, but, curiously enough, it 
was in Italian and French works that 
she made her reputation — in Aida and 
Carmen, in Puccini and Massenet; and, 
although she is engaged to take Madame 
Gadski's place at the Metropolitan and 
while she is an excellent Brunhilde 
and Isolde and toys with a number of 
other Wagner heroines, it will be in the 
music of the French and Italian writers 
that she will be most admired. 

It was Mascagni who started Galli- 
Curci upon her operatic career. As an 
old friend of her father's he was strolling 
through the house one morning and 
chanced to hear the Senorita sing, to her 
own accompaniment, an aria she had 
heard at the opera the previous evening. 
She had been a pianiste of note, but never 
ventured to sing except in her own room. 
As Mascagni passed her door he heard 
a high note. He stopped, listened, put 



his eye to the keyhole, gently pushed the 
door ajar, and, placing his ear to the 
crack, remained motionless until the aria 
was finished, when he burst in upon her 
and demanded that she repeat it to his 
accompaniment. For a full hour he re- 
mained at the piano, playing one after 
another of her songs. At the conclusion 
of the recital he asked for the key to the 
piano, locked it and, returning the key, 
said : "Never play upon that instrument 
in public again. From this day forth 
sing — do nothing but sing." And she 
has. 

May Peterson's forebears come from 
Norway. She has flaxen hair, china-blue 
eyes and the fair skin that is the third 
side of the isosceles triangle of Nor- 
wegian loveliness. Peterson pere was a 
Methodist minister — ^his daughter started 
her musical training in papa's church 
choir. Her first appearance as an oper- 
atic star was in the town of Vichy, 
France. She had been engaged to sing 
in Massenet's Manon. When she 
reached the town she was amazed to find 
herself billed as "from the Metropolitan 
Opera House of New York" — a stage 
she had never seen. Fearing that she 
could not last long as a "Metropolitan" 
star, with true American thrift she 
hired her costumes instead of buying 
them. Once on the stage, she discov- 
ered that the chorus girls were far more 
handsomely gowned than she was. But 
her courage rose as her heart sank. She 
determined to sing her way into favour. 
With the assurance of a seasoned prima- 
donna and with the voice of a Melba, 
she poured forth such a wealth of song 
that her hearers redemanded aria after 
aria. The next morning, when she had 
been assured that the length of her 
contract was but a matter for her to 
decide, she visited the costumers. At 
her next appearance in the part it was 
an exquisitely gowned Manon that 
received the applause. But that rented 
dress still hangs in her closet — the dear- 
est souvenir any novice ever had of a 
performance made perfect by pluck. 

Cecil Arden's father came from South 
Carolina; her mother was a Louisville 



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266 The Opera — By, For and With Americans 



belle. Miss Arden's voice is a rich con- 
tralto with a range that enables her to 
sing the music of Carmen, of Fides, 
of Amneris with perfect surety. But 
not for some time will she attempt to fly 
so high, for this will be — practically — 
her first trial at operatic work upon so 
large a scale. Miss Arden is an ardent 
American. So strong is her conviction 
that the best can be obtained at home 
that she remained in America until she 
had concluded the primary part of her 
musical education, when she quietly went 
to Italy and asked to be heard. "Did 
she wish to sing in opera?" "No." 
"In recital?" "Yes." And so a recital 
was arranged. Puccini heard her and 
Giordano and Ricardo Tosti — and they 
each and all complimented her and her 
American master. In Milan a reviewer 
expressed himself as "happy in finding in 
that far-off country people who cultivate 
with artistic love our art of bel canto/' 
Truly, the tables are being turned. 
Here's an American girl who studies in 
her own country, goes abroad and wins 
encomiums for "artistic work"; a girl 
who, without an operatic career, is ac- 
cepted at an audition held in the Metro- 
politan and is bidden to join the sacred 
circle. Miss Arden is to be congratu- 



lated upon doing her bit for Uncle Sam. 
Helen Kanders, a native of California, 
studied in France, Italy and Austria. 
For three years beirore the war she was 
a member of the opera company of 
Strassbourg, the capital of Alsace. 
Marie Conde is a Michigan girl. Her 
father was an Egyptologist and her 
mother a writer. For several years Miss 
Conde has lived in Boston, supporting 
herself by singing in church choirs. Ruth 
Frances Miller is a New Yorker well 
known as a concert singer. The war 
sent her home from Paris, where she 
was finishing her studies for the opera. 
Here, then, is the double roster — of 
the singers and their songs. The strug- 
gle on the other side of the water has 
sewn up the operatic output and closed 
the operatic schools ; and they who would 
entice the hearers of music in America 
must of necessity look about them here 
for the best available substitutes for the 
former operatic menus offered. In their 
search they have evidently found more 
than they were looking for; for, here 
be not only operas — and good ones — but 
those who can interpret tibese operas. Is 
it possible that the long-expected Amer- 
ican School of Music is to become a 
fact? 



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ON POLITICS AND HISTORY* 

BY LUTHER E. ROBINSON 



The autumn list of publications in his- 
tory and politics invites the bookman of 
generous tastes. It includes a new work 
on the Civil War by James Ford Rhodes 
embracing a study of "much new origi- 
nal material'' come to light since the 
appearance of his three volumes on that 
period. It includes also the Recollec- 
tions of Viscount Morley, in two vol- 
umes, a publication which, like that by 
Mr. Rhodes, excites high expectations 
by virtue of the author's past achieve- 
ments. The list is rendered attractive 
by numerous other volumes whose time- 
liness in theme and seriousness of discus- 
sion must afford an audience among 
readers in search of the forces most po- 
tent in directing the course of progress 
in the world. 

Those who believe that this progress 
is united with the welfare of democracy 
will welcome Mr. Weale's The Fight 
for the Republic of China. No other 
account of China's transition from mon- 
archy to republicanism matches this book 
in interest. Its vigorous and informing 
narrative is reinforced by a wealth of 
documentary sources indispensable to a 
sincere and authentic knowledge of the 
supremely interesting experiment in 
popular government on test in the Orient. 
The author speaks as a keen, dispassion- 
ate, and personal observer oif the events 
he describes. He tells the story of the 
Manchus from the accession of their dy- 
nasty in 1644, and indicates with pre- 

•The Fight for the Republic of China. By 
B. L. Putnam Weale. New York: Dodd, 
Mead and Company. 

Are We Capable of Self-Govcrnment By 
Frank W. Moxon. New York: Harper and 
Brothers. 

The President's Control of Foreign Rela- 
tions. By Edward S. Corwin. Princeton, 
N. J.: The Princeton University Press. 

Principles of American Diplomacy. By 
John Bassett Moore. New York: Harper and 
Brothers. 



cision the incoming of those modern ideas 
which finally undermined the gossamer 
foundation of that tyranny. He traces 
from its beginning the romantic career 
and personality of that political adven- 
turer, Yuan Shih-kai; how by patient 
finesse and sagacity he possessed the con- 
fidence of the monarchy to which he 
was faithful until his discernment 
tempted him into the new order of things. 
He struck a bargain with the Revolu- 
tionists, whereby he became the first 
President of the Republic There is a 
genuine mediaeval flavour about the mach- 
inations of this Chinese Machiavelli. 
The events since the establishment of the 
republic turn round Yuan's futile strata- 
gems to usurp power, to restore the mon- 
archy with its ancient theocratic en- 
chantment, against the results of the 
revolution held with consistency by the 
republican coalition. In the controversy 
which ensued, brain was matched against 
brain. The contest was fateful and his- 
toric. The memorandum of Dr. Good- 
now, legal adviser to Yuan, by a prolix 
and periphrastic summary of human in- 
stitutions, favoured the strong arm for 
China, and so was used to give aid and 
comfort to the President's personal am- 
bitions. The counter-stroke was 
launched by a distinguished Chinese 
scholar and reformer, a Yale graduate, 
Liang Ch'i-chao, in a brilliant and ear- 
nest brief for republican institutions. 
These documents, reproduced in the 

The Government of England. By David 
D. Wallace. New York: Putnam's Sons. 

A Short History of England. By G. K. 
Chesterton. New York: John Lane Com- 
pany. 

The Origins of the Triple Alliance. By 
Archibald Cary Coolidge. New York: 
Charles Scribner's Sons. 

Diplomatic Days. By Mrs. Nelson 
O'Shaughnessy. New York: Harper and 
Brothers. 



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268 



On Politics and History 



book, give climax to the reader's inter- 
est. Mr. Weale is inclined to ascribe 
Dr. Goodnow's role in the drama to 
anti-republican sympathies imbibed dur- 
ing his student days in Germany. Be 
this as it may, the reader will feel that 
his political philosophy suffers somewhat 
under the impact of splendid republican 
ideals set out in serious and sinewy fash- 
ion by the Chinese advocate. The Ap- 
pendixes to Mr. Weale's volume contain 
a rich array of documents invaluable for 
the study of this remarkable political 
transition. These include the Nineteen 
Articles granted by the Throne during 
the rebellion of 191 1 ; the Edicts of Ab- 
dication; the Provisional Constitution of 
Nanking; Yuan's Presidential Election 
Law, 191 3; the Constitutional Compact 
drafted by Dr. Goodnow, 1914; the 
Presidential Succession Decree of Yuan, 
same year ; the Russo-Chinese Agreement 
regarding Outer Mongolia, 1913; 
Chino-Japanese treaties, with accom- 
panying correspondence; the Permanent 
Constitution of 191 7; the Proposed 
Local Government Law; the Report of 
the Ministry of Commerce on tariff re- 
vision; and a memorandum on the out- 
standing cases between China and for- 
eign powers. 

It would be difficult to overestimate 
the service this book must render to the 
study of the more important aspects of 
Far Eastern questions. It must have a 
place in every library furnished with the 
best available materials for the intelli- 
gent consideration of China and Chi- 
nese problems in their relation to the so- 
cial advance of the modern world. 

Much conjecture might be indulged 
over the question whether China is ca- 
pable of self-government, but the query 
becomes somewhat arresting when it is 
put to an American audience anent them- 
selves. This is what Mr. Frank W. 
Moxon has done in his book, Are We 
Capable of Self -Government? It is a 
discussion of our national problems and 
policies touching business over the period 
from 1900 to 19 1 6. It is endorsed in a 
well-written introduction by Harry A. 
Wheeler, formerly president of the 



Chamber of Commerce of the United 
States — stylistically the best section of 
the book. Admittedly, "compounded for 
busy people who prefer their information 
pre-digested," the volume is an attempt 
to compare, during the period consid- 
ered, our business experience under gov- 
ernment regulation with the previous 
groping of business toward a still better 
basis of self-control. This comparison, 
more suggested than actual, raises many 
provoking questions without serious at- 
tempt to answer them. The reader, for 
example, is invited to consider whether 
self-government is too extravagant to be 
successful. Is industry needlessly crip- 
pled by the increasing extension of na- 
tional, state, and municipal taxation for 
purposes of social enterprise? Does in- 
dustrial altruism mean special privilege 
to organised labour? Do the commer- 
cial cartels of Germany, England, 
France account for the relative back- 
wardness of the United States, commer- 
cially ? Has legislation like the Sherman 
law retarded national growth by the 
creation of uncertainty among business 
men? Above all, when circumstances 
of world confusion throw unrivalled 
chances for trade expansion at the doors 
of American capital, is it possible for our 
people to seize the advantage "short of 
many years during which many valuable 
opportunities, perhaps independence it- 
self, are slipping away?" And our po- 
litical parties. Do they exist to discuss 
vital problems, or, from the standpoint 
of business, are they instruments of "re- 
taliation and punishment"? Much po- 
litical and industrial history and prac- 
tice are passed under rapid and critical 
review. The reader will enjoy the 
stimulus of the author's vivid catechising 
of what, in effect, amounts to the old 
opposing principles of laissez faire and 
social control. It is assumed as prac- 
tically axiomatic that great wealth is the 
fortune of the few, the outcome of in- 
evitable inequality. One might grant 
the general rule without prejudice, but 
must one conclude that industrial enter- 
prise is incapacitated without the incite- 
ment of huge personal rewards ? Henry 



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Van Dyke once told an audience at the 
Sorbonne that our democraqr has its 
source in the American sense of fair play. 
The principle seems as old as the coun- 
try itself; it makes it difficult to look 
upon business, enormously important as 
it is as a measure of civilisation, as 
an exception to that philosophy of ser- 
vice which justifies other well-established 
forms of social activity. Both business 
and government will have to continue to 
grope; but we have had enough experi- 
ence with both to hold fast our faith 
that the welfare of all may be promoted 
by social regulation as the adjuvant of 
private initiative, sacred as that is. As 
a mediaeval English sovereign put it in 
a state paper, what concerns all ought 
by all to be approved. 

One of the several ways by which 
Americans have been working out the 
details of self-government is exhibited by 
Dr. E. S. Corwin, professor of politics 
at Princeton, in a new book on The 
President's Control of Foreign Rela- 
tions. The volume is a specialised study 
of the contest, never dramatic, and in- 
teresting to few outside of students of 
political history, that has now and then 
cropped out between the Executive and 
Congress over their respective spheres of 
control in the management of foreign af- 
fairs. It is a useful book for reference 
and collateral reading. Seldom have dis- 
putes between the two departments over 
diplomatic prerogative occurred, albeit 
a watchful jealousy has been maintained 
on both sides, and has at times inspired 
the tactics or earnest assertion of one 
against the other. Generally, neither 
side has been disposed to act inconsid- 
erately of the rights of the other when 
these have been manifest from the word- 
ing of the Constitution. In the evolu- 
tion of our domestic and foreign inter- 
ests issues have arisen on which the con- 
stitutional direction was obscure or alto- 
gether wanting. For instance, the Con- 
stitution is silent on the subject of neu- 
trality, the abrogation of treaties, the 
recognition of new governments, and on 
international agreements short of treat- 
ies. Our diplomatic history shows a 



gradual increment of Presidential pow- 
ers in the handling of foreign affairs not 
specifically provided for. The discus- 
sion leading to this result began with 
Hamilton's defence of Washington's 
proclamation of neutrality in 1793, and 
the challenge of that policy which Madi- 
son, under Jefferson's appeal, was led to 
make. Lincoln, Cleveland, Roosevelt, 
Taft followed the Hamiltonian inter- 
pretation. President Wilson belongs to 
this school of interpreters. In treaty 
making the "advice" of the Senate comes 
in connection with the ratification privi- 
lege. The President has the power to 
make war through the control of diplo- 
matic negotiation and his prerogative as 
commander-in-chief of the army and 
navy. This power, not specific but prac- 
tical, has always been exercised in such 
close communication with Congress that 
no suspicion of its abuse has thus far 
arisen. The author does not generalise 
upon the data he has compiled further* 
than to show the groundlessness of the 
complaint against our so-called "secret 
diplomacy." Outside of the evident 
value of the book as a record of consti- 
tutional development, one gathers from 
it the signs of popular concession to the 
executive function as best suited to repre- 
sent the nation's consciousness of its ex- 
panding reciprocality of interests and in- 
tercourse with other world powers. 

Of more general interest than Dr. 
Corwin's piece of careful research, is 
Professor John Bassett Moore's Princi- 
ples of American Diplomacy. It fol- 
lows the story of our diplomacy from the 
Revolution to the present in untechnical 
language, by a recognised master of the 
subject. The result is extremely inter- 
esting and valuable. One is almost sur- 
prised at the few fundamental principles 
governing the conduct of our diplomacy 
from Washington to Wilson. Out of 
the simple principle of non-interference 
with the internal affairs of other na- 
tions, adopted in 1793, have developed 
the Monroe Doctrine and the uncom- 
pleted doctrine of Pan-Americanism. 
Those who are interested in this may 
recall Mr. Lansing's high-minded inter- 



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On Politics and History 



[ 



pretation, given before the Second Pan- 
American Scientific Congress in 19 15, of 
the ideals that underUe this third doc- 
trine. Professor Moore treats it fully 
from its inception and shows us the 
splendid vision of its possibilities in the 
minds of John Quincy Adams and 
Clay. Those, also, who have academi- 
cally jumped to the conclusion that the 
Monroe Doctrine is moribund will find 
little comfort, so it seems, in the plain 
narration of its operation in this book. 
Impressive is the author's suggestion 
that the most important event of the 
past two hundred years was the advent 
of the United States into the family of 
nations. "Even now," he remarks, "as 
we survey the momentous changes of the 
last few years, we seem to stand only 
on the threshold of American history, 
as if its domain were the future rather 
than the past." Such words remind one 
of the estimate of this event made by 
Ambassador Whitelaw Reid at Cam- 
bridge University, in 1906, when he 
spoke of the advent of the United States 
as the "Greatest Fact in Modern His- 
tory." The author adheres to the his- 
torical method in the discussion of events 
and their effects, but never fails to give 
fact a human interest. He enlists the 
reader's assent to his conviction that, in 
studying the past, the "element of real 
value is the motives, the thoughts and 
purposes by which events are inspired." 
One may wish for this volume, on a sub- 
ject too unfamiliar to our people, writ- 
ten with such admirable proportion, ac- 
curacy, and readableness, a very wide 
popularity. 

Opportune also is the appearance of 
an excellent treatise on The Government 
of England, written by Professor D. D. 
Wallace, of WoflFord College. It com- 
prises a description of national, local, 
and imperial adminfstration. Its point 
of %iew is the present; only incidental 
attention is given to historical develop- 
ment of the processes which now obtain. 
E?^pecially interesting are the chapters on 
the king and the premier. Mr. Wallace 
shows that in reality the king is a "per- 
manent Minister, a member of every 



cabinet, but without authority and with- 
out responsibility." Although custom 
forbids his attendance at cabinet meet- 
ings, he maintains a close and often in- 
fluential connection with the manage- 
ment of the foreign affairs of the coun- 
try. The chapter on "Aristocracy and 
Democracy" clarifies a subject rather in- 
distinct to Americans who have not ob- 
served English society at close range. 
The aristocratic class has of old gov- 
erned England. It is divided into two 
parties, each bidding for popular support 
by promising laws for the popular bene- 
fit. "England thus presents the spec- 
tacle of a country whose government is 
conducted by wealthy and aristocratic 
classes, and yet has upon its statute book 
more laws for the benefit of the masses 
than most countries of a much more 
democratic society." In the chapter on 
"Lessons England Can Teach Us," the 
author dwells upon the greater flexi- 
bility of the English Constitutional sys- 
tem. Much of America's highest intel- 
lectual effort is consumed, not, as in 
England, in proving whether proposed 
measures are good or bad, but whether 
they are constitutional or not. Readers of 
Dr. Corwin's pages, previously referred 
to, will find abundant confirmation of 
this fact. Naturally Professor Wallace 
calls attention to the closer co-operation 
in England between the legislature and 
the executive — a co-operation, he might 
have observed, more and more becoming 
realised in our country. Other lessons 
concern the budget system, popular re- 
gard for law, and a civil service test in 
character and ability in addition to the 
applicant's "immediate preparation." In 
the hands of instructors capable of sup- 
plementing it with an additional fund 
of historical illustration, such for in- 
stance as the political career of Glad- 
stone affords, this capitally written 
treatise should serve as an attractive 
text for college and university classes. 

The momentous contest between the 
forces of self-government and absolutism 
has provoked Mr. G. K. Chesterton to 
write a commentary which he has chosen 
to call A Short History of England. 



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With characteristic frankness he invites 
a retrospective study of England's his- 
toric development in order to isolate cer- 
tain weaknesses that have grown out of 
deviations from fundamental tendencies 
in early England, which, unarrested, 
would have facilitated the coming of 
democracy. The virtues that inhere in 
the British character have somehow made 
for national solidarity and success, he 
thinks, in spite of the blunders that have 
delayed the advantages of social equal- 
ity. He .aspects that the denouement 
of English historic errors is involved for 
good or for evil in the cataclysmic strug- 
gle of the powers to-day. Mr. Chester- 
ton's doctrine is that the advent of 
Roman Christianity among the barbarian 
units of early England was the inver- 
sion of aristocracy; that the farther we 
go back in mediaeval English society the 
nearer we approach "a fair law and a 
free state." Per contra, the closer we 
come to the modern period, the more 
ignorance and special privilege the citi- 
zen must endure. Arthur and the Round 
Table symbolise the equality of the early 
time. Christianity is the only thing of 
the mediaeval age that remained stable. 
Monastic institutions introduced repre- 
sentative government, besides preserving 
the literature of the day. Slavery was 
disappearing; it could not grow in the 
climate of Catholic Christianity. The 
three events most intimately associated 
with the civilisation of the Islands are 
the coming of the Romans, of Christian- 
ity, and of the Normans. Green, like 
odier popular historians, errs in assum- 
ing that England's history began with 
the coming of the "Schleswig people." 
In civilising power, the French are su- 
perior to the Scandinavian. Social insti- 
tutions, like the Guild System, flourished 
und^r the mediaeval regime. "In mod- 
ern constitutional countries there are 
practically no political institutions thus 
given by the people ; they are all received 
by the people." Trade Unions, "atten- 
uated and threatened," survive like a 
ghost of the Middle Ages. Protestant- 
ism imposed a "cyclic war of creeds." 
The new tyranny suppressed the popular 



movement, of which the Pilgrimage of 
Grace was a vital expression. The Puri- 
tans, though patriots, despoiled the 
Church and the Crown. Their princi- 
ple of self-government was selfish, equal 
but exclusive. England was never so 
undemocratic as when it was a republic. 
Whigism was aristocratic; so was 
Chatham and his imperial policy, Burke 
and his antipathy to the French Revolu- 
tion. But this revolution broke up the 
formal funeral of Christianity. Na- 
poleon was the instrument of equality 
and so regarded himself. The Reform 
Bill postponed democracy by evading the 
enthusiasm behind it. Trade Unionism 
is an Eng